In Your Eyes
by Argentina Sugar
Summary: 3months post-shooting, Fitz is doing well. He's back in office with Cyrus at his side and he and Mellie are expecting a baby in a couple of weeks. Olivia has left the White House and returned to fully committing herself to Pope & Assoc., but when Cyrus shows up with news that could expose her involvement with Fitz's election and Fitz himself can Fitz and Olivia find their way back?
1. Don't Look Back

"_First Lady Millicent Grant is finishing up nursery preparation and…"_

"_With the First Lady expecting in just a couple short weeks, the President…"_

"_An elated but nervous President Grant took the time to express his excitement with The Today Show via Skype and…"_

Olivia Pope swiftly turned off the television and a mocking silence swallowed her living room whole. It had been exactly three long, grueling months and sixteen days since President Fitzgerald Grant III was shot entering his 50th birthday gala, and The White House was still breathing a deep sigh of relief at the President's quick recovery. And it had been exactly three months and twelve days since Olivia had last seen the President. In her apartment living room, Olivia looked down at her coffee table where there sat a bowl of popcorn and a glass of red wine, clearly poured in vain, as she was too distracted to keep anything down. Her mind was spinning, and her heart, heavy with loneliness, had sunk to the very pit of her stomach. The past three months were nothing short of chaos and distress, and with a levelheaded and courageous attitude that even surprised herself at times, Olivia had stepped up to the plate – or to the podium in some instances – and she had taken charge. She had given and arranged press interviews, delegated to White House staff, stood by her trusted and utmost loyal friend and associate to clear his name as murder suspect, all while knowing that the President of the United States – the undeniable and unavailable love of her life – was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. And now, she was curled up against the arm of her couch, listening to the news of "America's Baby" just like the rest of the country. The First Lady's smile was etched across Olivia's brain, and renewed sadness gripped her as she remembered the conversation between the two of them, some three months ago…

x X x

Olivia took a deep and stabilizing breath as she sat in the hospital waiting room wing closed off for the President, waiting for Cyrus to arrive. Her mind was reeling, and Olivia knew that if she had taken a moment, even just one minute, to realize that she could lose the person who stirred in her a love so powerful it was almost deafening, she would break down – and Olivia Pope did not break down. As much as she tried to keep them at bay, fond and heartbreaking memories of the two of them swarmed Olivia's mind. The two holding each other on the couch, their declaration of their all-consuming and unwavering love for each other in the Rose Garden, the cruel happiness at the end of every late-night phone call, his hands sliding up her ribcage and into her hair…. Stinging tears leapt to Olivia's eyes and she blinked them back ferociously, unwilling to let the fragile threads that held her together fall victim to this omnipresent tension. The vibrating rings of her cell phone snapped her back to the present: "EDISON". _I'll talk to you later_, Olivia thought as she turned her phone over in her lap.

"Olivia Pope, I'm glad you came," said a sudden female voice to her right.

Olivia turned her head to see Mellie, standing some feet away from her with red, wet eyes.

"Mellie, I didn't know you were here. I should have expected... I got a call from Tom telling me Cyrus would meet me here." Olivia said faintly.

Mellie smiled a thin smile that did not reach her eyes, and sat down next to Olivia.

"Cyrus won't be coming Olivia. It was me who told Tom to request you here."

Olivia straightened and swallowed; she should have known. Even in the midst of all this chaos and crying, she should have known that Cyrus would have just called her directly. She squared her shoulders and looked at Mellie directly, "Oh?"

Mellie nodded. "Yes. You see Olivia, with Sally now having assumed the position as acting President, and with all damage already done; I don't see any reason for you to be around. I think you should go and relieve yourself of your duties for the White House – for the second time. I mean, with your company and your reputation, I hardly doubt this will be any kind of blow to you, am I correct? And let me assure you that while I understand that as First Lady I have no official position here, and so I can neither hire nor fire you, you and I both know what has been happening here with you and my husband…."

She paused and watched Olivia for a moment, who showed no sign of a reaction.

"We both know what has been happening here, and we both know how much I know, and that what I know and how I could spin it, could destroy you and only you. And so again, we _both_ know how crucial it is for you to grant me this request."

"I understand." Olivia said swiftly. A hot anger was burning inside of her, but she knew Mellie too well to not acquiesce.

Mellie smiled her thin smile again. "And Olivia, I am revoking your visiting privileges for my husband."

It was as if every breath in Olivia had been vacuumed out of her in an instant. Her heart dropped, and she reached out to grab the arm of her chair as a sudden light-headedness took over her. "What?"

"You have done enough here Olivia, and my husband and I thank you endlessly for what you have done for his presidency. But while he is here, I will not permit you to see him. I am his wife, and you are not, and that is enough of a reason. I'm leaving for the White House, and I have already authorized you to visit him one last time today, and that will be the end. Goodbye Olivia, I hope to see you again sometime not too soon."

And with that, Mellie walked away without a look back.

Olivia's phone began to vibrate again – "EDISON". Hardly stifling a heartbroken moan, Olivia drew her knees up to her chin and her entire body shook as she sobbed, finally letting the tears roll down her face.

x X x

Three swift knocks at her door broke Olivia out of her memory. She sprung up from the couch and strode towards the door where a serious-looking Cyrus stood in the doorway, accompanied by Hal.

"Cyrus?" Olivia remarked, surprised.

Cyrus stepped into her apartment and closed the door behind him. He smiled his slightly mischievous smile and without warning, pulled Olivia into a familiar, warm hug. She hugged him back and smiled into the lapel of his jacket. He smelled like all business and peppermint; he smelled like Cyrus. She hadn't seen her friend in two weeks, since the day President Grant was released from the hospital and he had come to inform her before the news broke to the media.

"Liv," Cyrus said fondly. He held Olivia at arm's length and raised an eyebrow, "Have you lost weight? You look like you've lost weight."

"I look exactly the same as I did two weeks ago, Cy."

The two of them sat on Olivia's couch, and she poured him a glass of wine.

"How is Albert?" She asked him.

"He is just about the cutest thing you've ever seen. James bought this new mobile for him that he just watches and watches until he falls asleep. He'll be two months in two days and the pediatrician told us we can take him with the unwashed public, but James wants to wait another month. I mean, you know James…." Cyrus trailed off and stretched his arms behind his head.

Olivia let out a laugh and stretched out her feet, letting them dangle over the arm of the chair while her legs lay across Cyrus's lap. Cyrus and James had adopted one-month-old Albert a week ago and every time she texted Cyrus, he was all Cyrus could talk about.

"You need to send me more pictures, or I'll come visit when James lets me."

"When? You mean if." Cyrus quipped. "How are the good people at Pope & Associates?"

"They're still good," she responded. "People are still doing things they shouldn't be doing, and so we're still here."

Olivia smiled and closed her eyes. Talking with Cyrus made things feel as though they were back to normal. Cyrus, as frustrated and as angry as he had been when he felt Olivia had posed a threat to Fitz's presidency, was good to Olivia. They had always been on the same page since day one, and seeing Cyrus made things feel like they were in sync all over again. But as she lay there, she knew there was one question she wanted to ask_ – how is he?_ – but something was holding her back.

"Liv." Cyrus's voice broke out, low and serious.

He held Olivia's ankles together and slowly moved her legs off of his lap. She quickly sat up and looked at his eyes, which were now troubled.

"Cyrus…?" She asked hesitantly.

"There's starting to be some talk about Defiance, Ohio."

**This is my first fan fiction in YEARS. I was inspired by Olivia Pope's awesome character and her amazing chemistry with Fitz, as well as some truly fantastic fan-written stories here, so I decided to write my own. I start some three months after Fitz is shot and is still somewhat recovering. PLEASE let me know what you think and review! Thanks guys!**


	2. Another Nail in My Heart

Olivia sat upright immediately and pushed fallen curls away from her face. She started to shake her head disbelievingly.

"No, I took care of that. _We_ are taking care of that."

"Secret Service, in looking at suspects and motives for the shooting came up with a lot of stuff, Olivia. After your friend was cleared, they looked at a whole host of people. And then they came across…across some uh, website." Cyrus reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, "Some blog thing named _Capitol Jill_. Mellie, Hollis, Verna, and everyone – we got wind of it, and they've written stuff we don't like. Not one bit Liv."

Olivia grabbed the paper and her eyes skimmed it frantically. Words like "rig" and "voting count" jumped out at her. Instinctively, her mind ran through ways to shut this down before it got any bigger than it was. But then she remembered, and looked up at Cyrus who was waiting expectantly for her quick Olivia Pope solution; waiting for her to put on her white Armani jacket and announce that she was coming back to The White House with a Plan A and a Plan B already in order.

"I can't come back there Cy," she said in almost a whisper.

Cyrus rolled his eyes impatiently, "Come on Liv, you're not going let Mellie sit and bark orders at you and tell you that you can't do this and you can't do that are you? No. You know she can't tell you to come and go. Fitz is still around right? So I'm still Chief of Staff here; I hire you."

"Cyrus, she _knows_. She's not some figurehead First Lady, and we both know that. She knows how to play this game and has power I don't."

"Olivia, you're smarter than that. She knows what's at stake here. You think Mellie's going to let a little ego and jealousy stand in the way of keeping her in The White House? You've been spending too much time at Pope & Associates. You need to come back and help us, she knows it, I know it, we _all_ know it Liv!" Cyrus threw his hands up in the air dramatically.

"Cyrus. I don't have to come back. I can help from here. When I'm not working at Pope and – "

"No." Cyrus stood up suddenly and walked towards the door as quickly as he had entered. He opened the door to step out before turning to look at Olivia, "You're not going to sit by and work on this 'from home' Liv, as though you don't really care. I don't buy that load of horseshit, and I know you're not trying to sell it. This is President Fitzgerald Grant III's presidency. I'm sending Tom and Hal to pick you up tomorrow at 9am sharp, so be ready to start acting like Olivia Pope."

Cyrus turned back and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

x X x

Olivia awoke the next morning at 6am. She double-checked the day's weather on her phone and noticed two missed calls from Edison – "9:07pm", and "10:20pm". _I'll call him later_, she thought to herself. She could hardly sleep after Cyrus's surprise visit the night before; and as she showered and dressed, her insides were rolling with excitement and anticipation, but also dread and worry. Her heart was beating fast and heavy against her chest, causing her to feel hot and then cold. She didn't know where this sudden fear came from, but it was there and it was getting stronger and stronger with every passing minute. Was she afraid of seeing Fitz for the first time in three months? What would he think of her when he saw her? Was he still upset about their last conversation two weeks ago? Did he not feel the same way anymore? Or was she afraid of Mellie? Was Mellie still holding their relationship over her head? _Ha!_ Olivia almost laughed in spite of herself as she poured a cup of coffee. Mellie was nothing to be afraid of. She was undoubtedly smart, and she knew the tricks of the trade like the magician himself, but Olivia had practically written the magician's handbook of scandals and solutions. As she sipped her coffee and picked at a piece of toast she was too nervous to eat, Olivia recalled the last conversation she had had with the president, and felt sick to her stomach…

x X x

"Hello?" Olivia answered her house phone and muted her television.

"Liv."

She knew the voice, she knew who was calling minutes, maybe even hours before the phone rang, and yet, it still caught her slightly off guard. She looked at her nightstand alarm clock – 11:39pm.

Olivia took a deep breath, "Mr. President," she replied in a serious tone. She had to set the precedent, now or never.

Fitz laughed a laugh that made her want to reach through the phone and hug him. "Am I in trouble?" He asked, still laughing.

"No, should you be?"

"You tell me."

"Mr. President, it's twenty to midnight…."

"What? Why are you so serious? Is it the phone call from two nights ago? I'm sorry I hung up, but Mellie was coming in the room. But now as of yesterday afternoon, I'm here back in the Oval, with a secure line all to myself. We should celebrate. I should come over."

Olivia shut her eyes tight, hating the way this was. The truth was that the president couldn't come over; he couldn't just come over and spend the night. And they were kidding themselves thinking it could go on this way. With every phone call that made Olivia grin for days, she knew that they were just one day closer to the moment when all of this eventually had to stop.

"If I didn't know you were kidding, I might question your sanity," she said, trying to buy time before she broke this amazing man's heart.

"Who says I was kidding? I'm the most powerful man on the planet, Livvy. Didn't you know that? Tom and Hal can only oblige if I request to visit you."

"Fitz," Olivia said sternly, sitting up in bed.

"Sweet baby?"

Tears fell down Olivia's cheeks, and muddled her voice before she could even collect herself.

"Fitz," she gurgled, gripping her pillow tight for reassurance, strength, something, anything.

"Livvy?" Fitz asked, his voice no longer playful and relaxed but concerned and panicked. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

Olivia said nothing for a moment. She couldn't speak, and she could hardly see through the heavy tears that were rolling down her face, onto her lips and onto her pillow.

"Liv? Olivia?" Fitz said, louder this time.

Olivia quickly brushed her tears from her face and drew in a breath, "This can't happen Fitz, it can't happen. You are back in the Oval Office; you are back as the leader of the free world. You have a country to run, you have kids and a baby soon to be born. You have a _wife_. You have a duty to people who are not me and I can't stand by and do this anymore."

"Liv, what are you saying? You know this, we know this already. What's different now?"

"Nothing is different. It has always been this way, but it can't continue. This isn't the right thing to do."

"Olivia," Fitz's voice was low now, with an anger Olivia knew would come. "What you're saying isn't making any sense. I love you. I am in love with you. You are the most important person to me and you know that. I was in a Level I coma on the Rancho Scale for three weeks Olivia, and when I wake to learn that I've been shot, the one person standing there isn't you. Did you know what that was like? Do you remember me telling you what that was like?"

"Fitz…", Olivia tried to interject but she could hardly speak and Fitz was now too loud to hear her.

"Every day I spent in that hospital waiting to see your face, waiting to see you show up and sit by me and then every day passed and still, I couldn't so much as talk to ask why my the amazing and the beautiful love of my life hasn't shown up to see me. And when Tom spoke to me and told me what Mellie had done, I was too crushed to be mad. And now, three months later, phone call after phone call you're telling me you can't do this anymore? No. I spent every day in that hospital, knowing that I could get better for _you_! That I could get better enough to see _you_, to hold _you_, to be with _you_! I would drop everything for you. I would leave everything in this crap white building for you. You are the most remarkable, most intelligent, most beautiful and breathtaking woman on this planet, and I hope you didn't forget that. I hope you didn't forget how in love with you I am, Olivia Pope. And even if you did, you know I would leave in seconds to come there and remind you."

Bizarrely, Olivia wanted to laugh at the image of Fitz striding across the South Lawn in pajamas, but the reality of the conversation hit her once more. This was it. It wasn't the fake "it" this time. It was real, and it was up to her to make it happen.

"Fitz, Fitz. Listen to me."

"Sweet baby, don't."

"Listen to me!" Olivia shouted, grabbing at the neck of her nightgown in sheer frustration and sadness. "This is _over_. It is done, it is over. Don't think I forgot anything Mr. President, don't ever think that. But you and I know that this is the right decision. You _survived_, you made it. I can't let you risk this second chance for me. And I won't let you risk it. I –,"

"Is there someone else?" Fitz interrupted, no longer shouting. He was quiet and his breathing was slow and patient.

Fresh tears sprang to Olivia's eyes but she blinked them back.

"I love you too," she continued.

"Olivia…"

"Goodbye Mr. President."

Olivia placed the phone down on its receiver as slowly as she could, half-wishing she would hear Fitz call out her name. Then she turned off the lights and pressed her face into her pillow, now cold and damp, soon to dry up by morning.

x X x

For the second time in less than 24 hours, a knock at Olivia's door brought her back to the present. And in the doorway this time, at exactly 8:55am, stood Tom and Hal. She smiled at them, genuinely pleased to see these two men.

"Tom, Hal."

"Ms. Pope."

"Well, let's go then."


	3. Brown-Eyed Girl

Twenty minutes later, Olivia was being ushered into the west wing of The White House, and with what she could have sworn was a reassuring smile, Tom opened the door to the Roosevelt Room. Olivia's eyes gauged the room as soon as the door swung open, and immediately, any apprehension she felt on the ride over disappeared. It looked exactly the same as it had the last time she was there, and she felt the same as she did the last time she was there: self-assured and armed with a Plan A and a Plan B. She was back in The White House ready to do what she did best, which was to be, arguably, the second most powerful person at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Olivia hoisted her handbag higher on her shoulder and looked around the table. From her left to her right sat Hollis Doyle, Cyrus, and Verna Thornton – all looking very pleased to see her.

"Olivia!" Hollis's Southern twang rang from her left.

"Doyle," Olivia nodded towards him with a tight-lipped smile; she was certainly not keen to forget that it was his fault that seven innocent people died and an unaware Lindsey Dwyer, better known as Quinn Perkins, was currently in her office at Pope & Associates. "Cyrus, Verna."

Cyrus and Verna smiled respectively, and Olivia took a seat.

Cyrus clapped his hands, "Let's get this thing moving then. The President is resting, as is the First Lady, who is expected to give birth any day now. Protocol's the same: he doesn't know, she will be briefed following this meeting. Olivia, you have the blog?"

The mention of Fitz was not lost on Olivia, who quickly shoved him out of her mind and pulled out the printout of _Capitol Jill_.

"I researched it this morning, and made photocopies. From what I could do at home, it doesn't seem to be a very sophisticated website. We're dealing with simple HTML, simple web and interface design, uncomplicated proprietary software, et cetera, et cetera. The content is very limited and so this isn't something we're going to lose sleep over, but it is something that needs to be handled. What concerns me is that this blog, and this post especially, has been shared to numerous websites. It has over 200 hyperlinks and widgets, which means I'm going to have to shut down those hosts as well. I don't want any tracks, I don't want any crumbs." Olivia spoke quickly and efficiently as she handed out photocopies of her research to all at the table. "There was no listed author by name or penname, but we can easily track IP Addresses in our sleep."

"And you can do all this?" Hollis asked doubtfully, not bothering to look at the papers he was being handed.

"I'm sure that was a rhetorical question Mr. Doyle."

Cyrus laughed from across the table and clapped his hands together again, "Okay, now _this_ is what I like to hear. We are back in full swing."

And so the meeting between Cyrus, Olivia, Verna, and Hollis quickly went from wrapping up damage control on Defiance, to discussing the President's current health ("..doing physical therapy three times a week to regain full muscle control and arm movement after the gunshot," Cyrus informed the table), and the importance of getting Mellie, the President, and their baby in the spotlight after it's born ("…quick and symbolic, but it can't be showy. We need to tell the American public that this is family who is strong and close, but we can't look like we're showing them off. Subtlety is our best friend here," Olivia advised). After an hour's worth of strategizing, a soft knock on the Roosevelt Room door sounded.

"Come in!" boomed Cyrus.

White House Social Secretary, Paulette Pitcher, stood in the doorway, "The First Lady would like to inform you that the President has awoken and is getting ready to leave his bedroom. The Roosevelt Room meeting needs to conclude immediately."

Cyrus nodded and everyone stood.

"Verna, it was nice to see you again. I hope you're doing well, take care until I see you again," Olivia said softly, reaching out to shake the Supreme Court Justice's hand.

Verna smiled graciously and left the room. Behind her, Hollis made an attempt to do the same, but Olivia caught him quickly by the elbow.

"Hollis, just a word. Quickly."

Hollis looked at the door, which was slightly ajar, then back to Olivia. Smiling slightly, he turned to face her completely and nodded, "Alright. I don't have anything against a quick word."

"I don't know if you know this, but what you did was disgusting. It was heinous and wrong and if it weren't for the reason why we were all here in this room right now, I would take you down. You need to give me your word right here and right now that you will _not_ go to extreme measures for anything. Not for Defiance, not for Cytron, nothing."

"Olivia, and what pray tell, what was I supposed to do? I might as well have stood in the middle of the National Mall and shout out -," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "shout out unofficial, rigged voting machines in Ohio?"

Olivia dropped her voice even lower, "_You weren't supposed to kill seven people_. Your word Hollis."

Hollis said nothing for a moment and then smiled, "You know, for someone who likes to give orders, you would think that you would have been a bit more specific with your instruction. But Olivia," he said, raising his palms in defeat, "you have my word."

Olivia stepped back as Hollis swiftly exited the room. She turned to Cyrus, who was looking grave but unsurprised. She slid her arm through his and stepped out of the Roosevelt Room.

"Are you sure he doesn't have some oil well somewhere where we can drop him?"

Cyrus laughed, "If he did, he sure as hell wouldn't be here now. Not with me around."

Olivia smiled, "Softie Cyrus? You wouldn't."

"You never know Olivia, I'm known –,"

But Olivia was no longer listening. Across from the Roosevelt Room, entering the Dining Room, stood a _very_ pregnant and tired-looking Mellie, and Fitz. If it hadn't been for the piano playing in Cross Hall, Olivia's gasp could surely have been heard. Her entire body froze on the spot as she took in the sight she hadn't seen in almost four months. He was standing dressed in a dark grey suit with a plain dark blue tie looking just like the strong and sexy Fitz she knew. Olivia took him in, part by part: from his dark hair to the way his lips moved as he spoke, to the way he rested his hands lazily in the pockets of his pants, and to the way his voice sounded and played on her heartstrings. Olivia didn't know how long she'd been standing there staring, but when he finally turned and noticed her, a brick of emotion hit Olivia hard in the chest; she couldn't move and she didn't even know if she could speak. All she knew was that in that moment, the love of her life was looking at her for the first time in such a long time and she felt it. She felt this powerful, all-consuming desire and devotion, and though he was standing feet away, she knew he could feel it too. Time suspended itself in The White House as the two of them stared at one another, searching each other's faces and finding mutual sadness, confusion, and longing. Had Olivia known that Cyrus had removed his arm from hers, she would have been surprised to learn that she was still standing. All she wanted was to rush across the hall and hold the most amazing man she knew. She could sling her arms through his own and hold him tight because in that moment, they were the only people there. Only when Mellie spoke did Olivia realize that she was now standing right next to her.

"Olivia!" She gushed, taking hold of Olivia's hands and smiling broadly.

Olivia hadn't seen Mellie since she had banned Olivia from visiting Fitz. Dressed in a deep green maternity dress, and her hair piled high on the top of her head, Mellie was the stunning image of fertility. Her cheeks were soft and her skin was glowing. Olivia looked into the eyes of the First Lady and her insides hardened.

"Mellie," she replied simply as Mellie pressed her cheek against Olivia's own.

"It has been _far_ too long. How have you been Liv?"

"I've been excellent. And yourself? You look stunning."

"Thank you," Mellie chuckled graciously, "you should see me when I'm not dolled up like this. I'm a hormonal mess, I don't even know how Fitz deals with me."

"I don't know how he does either."

Mellie's smile faltered for a moment, but like a seasoned politician, she regained her composure. "Fitz and I were heading to dinner, we're both so tired and starved. You should join. Please do."

"No. That's all right, thank you, I have a full schedule to stick to. But you will be seeing me around soon."

"Oh?" Mellie paused, "So you're back then? Here?" She glanced at Cyrus as though looking for confirmation.

"Yes," Olivia smiled, "I'm back. Sometime soon."

Mellie nodded slowly and looked back at Fitz before turning to Olivia again, "Well, it's good to have you back Olivia. We look forward to seeing you around more often."

She turned away without another word and walked into the dining hall leaving Fitz, Olivia, and Cyrus standing in Cross Hall, separated by its rich red runner. Olivia looked at him cautiously, and the tremendous urge to reach out and lay with him took her over again. They looked at each other, and then she sensed a sudden pain radiating from him – and she knew exactly why. She was the first to break the silence,

"Mr. President, I'm just here informing Cyrus about upcoming plans for the baby. We're really –,"

"So you're back?" Fitz interrupted, his eyes traveling up and down Olivia.

"Yes…in a sense."

Amidst silence once more, both of them opened their mouths to speak, but it was Cyrus who broke it this time,

"Mr. President, the Dining Room…."

With one last look at Olivia, Fitz turned and walked inside of the Dining Room, and Olivia watched him go, fighting the urge to yell out his name and grab him from behind to rest her face on his back or splay her fingers across his shoulders.

"I'm sorry Olivia," Cyrus said quietly, "but we both know what that was like for him."

Afraid to say anything more, Olivia turned on her heel and walked down the Grand Staircase and away from the Roosevelt Room as quickly as she could. On her way out of The White House, she tried desperately to push everything out of her mind. _It's only been two weeks, and you're pretty much about to fall apart – again. Get it together_, she thought, frustrated with herself. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Pope & Associates.

"Yes, Harrison. It's me. I need you and Huck to find out everything you can about a _Capitol Jill_. Be there in less than an hour."

x X x

If it hadn't been for the fact that he had spent two weeks waiting for the moment he would hear her voice again, Fitz might not have even turned to notice Olivia. But there she was, standing arm-in-arm with his Chief of Staff, staring at him with wide and almost frightened, big brown eyes. Fitz froze on the spot, hardly daring to breathe. It had been almost four months since he had last seen her and he could hardly believe it to take it in. His heart raced with excitement as his eyes leapt everywhere: from her clean white jacket, to her dark gray pants; from the curls that he brushed away from her face and off her lips whenever she was resting on top of him, to the lips who's contours he knew better than his own. Her soft skin was glowing and he could almost feel himself reaching out to trace his fingers across her collarbone and down her spine, to hold the small of her back and pull her closer like he'd done so many times before. Nothing was happening in that moment, besides Olivia Pope standing in front of him. He was being drawn to her, and he knew that she could feel it too by the way her eyes searched his face and the way she stood rooted to the spot. All he wanted to do was run over and bring her somewhere, anywhere, to tell her over and over again how much he loved her. He watched Olivia and his wife speak for a moment, not even bothering to listen. His attention was on Olivia's lips and the way they moved and pressed against each other with every word. His mind rolled back to time when he and Olivia kissed for first time in his hotel room in the middle of the campaign: his lips were pressed against hers…he pressed her against a wall, her hands slid up his neck and into his hair…he sat her down on a table pressed his face into her neck before running his hands down soft silk of her pink blouse to the soft mounds of her breasts…_take off your clothes_…. And she had looked at him nervously through big brown eyes. And then almost as if to torture himself, memories of their last phone call seized Fitz with an iron-clad grip, and he was reminded of the pain he felt when she told him 'goodbye'; when she refused to listen to him and hung up the phone, without ever once calling back. He was so lost in pained thought, that he hadn't even realized that Mellie had gone until Olivia spoke,

"Mr. President, I'm just here informing Cyrus about upcoming plans for the baby. We're really –,"

"So you're back?" Fitz cut Olivia off.

"Yes…in a sense."

He watched her watch him and for a moment, he wasn't sure. Did she come back for him? What did this mean? His eyes lingered on every part of her body, driven by a passionate love into an intoxicating tunnel vision. He wanted to hold her and hug her, and tell her she was wrong for saying 'goodbye'.

"Mr. President, the Dining Room…." Cyrus's voice reminded Fitz of where he was.

Unwilling to prolong the pain he was feeling, Fitz looked at Olivia one last time and then turned into the Dining Room with Cyrus behind him.

Fitz had no idea what to think. All he knew was that he hadn't seen the love of his life in four months and here she was, standing in front of him telling him she was back…in a sense. He wasn't content with that answer, and if Olivia was still Olivia, she knew it too.

"So, did you and Olivia have a good chance to catch up?" Mellie asked, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin in their cradle.

Fitz looked up at her, knowing how pleased she was with what she had done over the past three months. Instead of giving Mellie the satisfaction of an answer, Fitz turned to the cook on his left, "Is there salmon today?"

**Thanks guys for the feedback and reviews so far! I am really liking this story and hoping to go with it so show it to friends or post it somewhere! A lot of you guys didn't like Mellie and wanted to see Olivia put her back in her place. I'm hoping Olivia does that too! **


	4. Changes

"Welcome to Rasika, do you have a reservation?"

"For two at seven, last name Davis."

"Excellent. You're the first of the party to arrive. Just follow me please."

Olivia nodded and followed the hostess to a small, elegant table near to a window at street level. She pulled out her cell phone without any good reason – a habit she had whenever she was waiting for someone. It was 6:49pm, which meant Edison would soon be arriving. He had called some time within the six straight hours Olivia had spent doing damage control for a conservative, Catholic governor's 16 year-old unmarried, pregnant daughter to insist that she "stop dodging his phone calls" and meet her at Rasika Restaurant on D Street at 7pm sharp. And after much consideration, Olivia obliged and decided that perhaps in the middle of a busy and confusing week, a night out with her boyfriend was exactly what she needed. Absentmindedly, Olivia straightened the utensils to her right and thought to herself that not too long ago, had she not made the decision, she might not be at this restaurant waiting for Edison at all.

x X x

"CYRUS", read Olivia's phone. She muted the streaming live press conference with acting President Sally Langston and answered.

"Cy. What's going on?"

On the other end of the line, Cyrus took a deep breath, "He's still under a medically induced coma but his pneumonia is gone and they're making much more progress with his right lung to get it breathing back on its own. Don't know when they're going to remove the chest tube though."

"The thoracostamy tube…right. Ok. What else?" Olivia asked, focusing intensely.

"His broken rib is still healing and they've bandaged him real good, and the muscle damage to his right arm is healing too. But there's no way he's getting out of this fully without physical therapy down the road."

Olivia shut her eyes tight and let Cyrus continue.

"He's recovering from his craniotomy well and there's no more internal bleeding of the brain. But the Chief of Surgery was saying something about a 50% chance of a reoccurring simple pneumothorax, so he has about one month more of hospital time. But Mellie wants him in the clear as much as possible, so she's requesting to extend his stay for an extra three weeks."

"It's been a month since he was shot. Add on those extra seven weeks and that's basically what…three months that he'll be in there?"

"Yes," Cyrus answered slowly.

Olivia bit at her bottom lip, feeling foolish for thinking that she would be able to see Fitz in a few week's time.

"Liv, if you just –" Cyrus started cautiously.

"Don't, Cyrus. Don't go there. I'm not going to visit, and even if I did, hospital staff wouldn't even let me in. Did you forget that I've been blacklisted?"

"So you think having me call you every time I get an update from the Chief will make you feel any better?"

"Yes….no. I don't know. I don't know how to make this one better, Cyrus."

"You don't know? I thought Olivia Pope always knows."

"Apparently Olivia Pope just doesn't know how to fix Olivia Pope."

"I'm sorry Liv, really. Look, I have to go. But don't ask me to call you and let you know about these things if you really don't want to know."

"I know. Thank you Cy."

Olivia hung up the call and scrolled through her text messages distractedly…Abby, Cyrus, Mom, Huck, Quinn, Edison…. It had been a month since Fitz was shot and although he was out of immediate danger, being shut in the dark and unable to sit in the hospital with him still stung her. In the back of her mind, she knew that she needed to end this. She was in love with an incredible, loving man who couldn't be more unavailable if he tried. If it wasn't wrong then, it was wrong now. She had no business being distracted and worried all day by a man she shouldn't be feeling anything for. She had no business seeing his children in the hospital on her last visit, knowing that she was sharing a grief with them she shouldn't be sharing. This was not her family; this was not her Fitz. She was wasting her time waiting, watching, and breathing for a man she could never have, and she was wasting his time letting this go on to risk his presidency when here was an opportunity, practically screaming naked, to end it all. Olivia knew that this was how it was always was going to be and that they couldn't be together. More times than she could count, Fitz had wrapped his arms around her protectively and threatened to throw his presidency out the window to be with her, but she knew that no matter what road they took, she wouldn't let him do that and that they still would never find each other. And so rather than move forward, they were fooling themselves trying to stave away the inevitable – the end of Fitz and Olivia, if there even really was such a thing.

And so, after she hung up with Cyrus, Olivia decided that she had to move on from being a secret, no matter how real and how right Fitz felt. And every day, she worked harder than the last to push President Fitzgerald Grant III out of her mind. She spent hours at Pope & Associates well into the evening, she stopped calling Cyrus for updates and instead watched the news like any other uninvolved citizen, and she finally took up Senator Edison Davis up on his offer to turn whatever it is that they had started into something more serious.

x X x

"I should have known you'd be here already. I'm sorry for being late." A voice said from somewhere above Olivia's head.

She looked up to see Edison looking handsome in a black suit and pulling out the chair across from. He leaned over the table to kiss her and Olivia leaned into it, guiding his chin to tilt his mouth closer to hers.

"It's 6:56. You're not late, I'm just early." Olivia said.

"As always."

"I know I missed your call last night, it –,"

"Call_s_, two. I called you twice."

"Right, I'm sorry. It has been just _the_ craziest couple of days."

"So you're back at The White House then, that's what you've been telling me today?"

"Yep. I guess I'm back. At least for some time." Olivia said flipping through the menu.

"Well…?" Edison beckoned, gesturing with a wave of his hand.

"You know I can't discuss my clients with you."

"You're right. I know," Edison said slowly. "You look absolutely stunning tonight, though. That dress is amazing on you."

Olivia reached across the table to place her hand on his, "Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself." With her other hand, she reached under the table and gripped his knee.

"So you still like tandoori salmon right?"

Olivia nodded, "You remember?"

"Of course. Tandoori salmon with naan, otherwise a beef vindaloo, naan, and mango chutney."

Impressed, Olivia could only smile.

Dinner came and went and Olivia and Edison spent the next hour laughing and talking about anything that came to their minds. It was easy to forget that six years ago, she was engaged to this man. There was no awkwardness, no hard feelings, and no shortness of attraction. Olivia liked Edison, and if his many phone calls were any inclination, she knew Edison more than liked her too. From the day she had given Edison a call letting him know that she serious about trying things out, he had called her at least every other night. He was kind, and good-looking, and he knew her well. When he asked for two dessert menus upon the reentrance of their waitress, Olivia felt her phone ringing against the back of her chair.

"I'm sorry. Hold on, I'm vibrating."

Edison laughed, "That's the sexiest thing I've heard all day."

Olivia checked her cell phone – "HARRISON".

"Babe, I'm sorry, one minute."

Edison nodded and perused through the dessert menu as Olivia got up and headed over to the ladies' room.

"Hey Harrison, what's up? What is it?"

"We've checked on _Capitol Jill_ and they updated something irrelevant, but we're looking at an IP address somewhere down in Dupont Circle. It's um, some company called Gallagher Print? We didn't get a manager or supervisor name but it looks like a small, liberal, newspaper company. We did get a chance to speak to a young female journalist however, by the name of Linette Ramos, who told us that that all posts are edited and assembled by some head journalist. She gave us a number, 202-736-2236. It belongs to a uh…James Novak."

Olivia paused on her way towards a stall for privacy, "What? Who did you just say?"

"James Novak. That's all we got for now."

Olivia was silent. She couldn't believe it. No way James could be tied to this….

"Olivia?"

"Harrison. Get started on tracing those Hurricane Sandy charity funds to Governor Bryant's account, and just leave _Capitol Jill_ for me. I'll be there by 9:30."

**So it's clear: Edison and Olivia are an official couple, and we get the back-story behind Olivia's thinking during that phone call with the President two weeks ago. And James! What's going to happen with him? What's his deal and how long will Olivia wait to tell Cyrus? Or will she even tell Cyrus? Please keep reading and reviewing you guys! Thanks so much to all of those who are enjoying the story and putting in their own two cents – it really helps me to get a feel of the different directions this story could go. And for the majority of those who want to see Olivia finally give Mellie a piece of her mind – it is**_** coming**_**, trust me on that! I've just been having a mad rush of ideas so I don't have a set schedule for updates. But I think 4 chapters in a day is pretty good! Anyway, thanks so much again and please keep reading and reviewing! **


	5. Takin' Care of Business

As soon as Olivia returned to the table, she grabbed her jacket and purse hanging off the back of her chair. Edison looked up, confused.

"What's happening? What's going on?" He asked, standing up.

"I'm really sorry, but I have to go," Olivia said simply, zipping closed her purse and pulling her jacket over arms.

"Go?"

"I know it's sudden but I really can't stay. I can't explain it and don't ask me. But really, I'm sorry." Olivia put her hand to Edison's shoulder and swiftly kissed his cheek.

"I'll call you later?" Edison offered, looking utterly dejected.

"Yeah, sure."

Olivia pulled her hair out from the collar of her jacket, hooked her handbag in the inside of her elbow, and left.

x X x

_That can't be right_, Olivia thought to herself as she walked up the stairs to her apartment some thirty minutes later. Olivia couldn't wrap her mind around it. How could James, Cyrus's husband be behind any of this? How could he _know_ about this? Olivia knew Cyrus couldn't have told him. Cyrus was known to be pretty heartless and cutthroat when it came to protecting Fitz's presidency; he wouldn't give up a secret like that. And besides, he would be have gone down with it. Olivia hurriedly dropped her bag on her kitchen counter and walked into her small office space to grab her laptop and her phone charger. She decided that she didn't have the time to change out of her dress and came to grab only a few things before heading back out.

A familiar buzz sounded from across her apartment and Olivia walked back into the kitchen to retrieve her phone – "HOLLIS".

"Mr. Doyle, I can definitely say I'm not pleased to hear from you. What do you want?" Olivia asked, checking her watch.

"Always a pleasure for me Ms. Pope."

"Are you calling to waste my time or…don't have you some drilling to do?"

"You know I don't do the manual work Olivia. That's not where I belong," Hollis chortled.

"What do you want Hollis? I'm heading somewhere." Olivia prompted impatiently, checking her watch – 8:43pm.

"Are you alone?"

"Would I be talking to you if I weren't?"

"The memory cards for all the rigged voting machines are secure in a joint family bank safe. All expect for one, I donated it to my daughter's elementary school as a sort of uh…gift, I s'pose, to sort of initiate political interest and action in schools and all that good stuff."

"I'm not worried about you Hollis, I have seven different ways to blackmail you."

"Blackmail?" Hollis laughed, "And here I thought you were above that? Here I thought you were a good soul always trying to fix everything."

"You're trying to fit me into a black and white category that doesn't exist. Are we done here?"

"One more thing."

"What?"

"I got a phone call from my Chief of Human Resources Officer over at Cytron. He told me some guy was looking to do a story on the Cytron explosion, he –,"

"Who was he?" Olivia interrupted, walking back to her office space

"Name, Richard Trudeau, 36-years-old. Lives in Silver Springs, Maryland."

"That's all I need," Olivia nodded.

Olivia hung up the call and quickly dialed Huck's cell phone. As usual, he answered on the second ring.

"Olivia?"

"Huck, I need you to look up anything you can about a Richard Trudeau. He's 36-years-old and lives in Silver Springs, Maryland. Look up him with _Capitol Jill_."

"Olivia, Harrison told me you said to scrap that."

"I know," Olivia said quickly. "But now I need you to do this. I'll be there soon."

"No questions, I know." Huck replied.

Olivia smiled, "Thank you."

She closed down her laptop and stuffed it in its Tumi sleeve along with her phone charger, and stuffed her phone into the inside pocket of her jacket. Olivia grabbed her purse and opened the door to leave. If she hadn't looked up at that moment she might have nearly bumped into him. In her doorway looking ready to knock, stood Fitz.


	6. Melt With You

"What are you doing? You can_not_ be here." The words were out of Olivia's mouth before she had time to think about them, much less stop them.

But there he was, and Olivia couldn't help it – this was the closest she had been to him in too long and she took in everything that was only inches away from her. Her eyes immediately rested on a scar, dark pink and an inch above his temple, starting by his eyebrow and disappearing into his hair, which was…shorter, than she'd last seen. She looked over the steady bridge of his nose down to his jaw line – strong and tense. She found the curve of his neck disappearing into the collar of his blue shirt, lying under a red tie hiding cream-colored buttons.

"Tom and Hal are on their way up," Fitz started, sending chills down and then back up Olivia's spine. She forgot how his voice could be everything to her sometimes….

"They were pretty reluctant to bring me here. Very reluctant actually," Fitz walked towards Olivia, who backed up back into her apartment.

Trying to regain herself, Olivia took a deep breath, "You can't be here. It's not smart and it's _really _not safe. I'm leaving anyway, so if you want to speak to me, you can make an appointment to speak to me."

Fitz closed the door without looking behind him, and continued walking. Olivia was against her kitchen countertops now, the cool marble pressing against the backs of her arms.

"I can't believe it's been this long since I've been this close to you."

Olivia looked at the ground, not allowing herself to lose all the hard work she'd put in so far. He wasn't even that close to her yet, and she could feel the weight of his body pressing against her own, filling every curve the way he always did. She tried to conjure in her mind a distraction…Edison, Defiance, Hollis, Huck….

"Tell me you really thought that I wouldn't show up here? Tell me you didn't think that I would be able to see you yesterday and not need to see you again?" Fitz continued, his voice slow and sexy. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you right now…then I know you wouldn't be telling me I couldn't be here."

Olivia looked up, "Mr. President, I have to go."

With a kind of strength and a willpower that surprised her, Olivia walked past Fitz, taking care not even to brush past the shirt on his back.

"Did you mean it?" Fitz asked, as soon as Olivia had reached the door.

Olivia stopped and turned around. She knew exactly what he was asking, but she couldn't help but ask, "Did I mean what?"

"Did you really mean what you said to me on the phone two weeks ago? When you said 'goodbye'? Did you really mean this was over and that we were over? Did you really mean to let me go?"

Olivia didn't say anything for a moment. She didn't know how to answer that. Olivia bit her lips and repeated herself, "You can't be here. You need to leave."

"Olivia."

Olivia switched tactics, ""Where does Mellie think you are?" She asked, accusingly.

Without a moment's hesitation, Fitz answered, "Does it matter?"

"It should, she –,"

"_Did you mean it_?" Fitz prompted, louder this time. He started walking towards her. Olivia's heart scrambled up into her throat. She had nowhere to go now but out, and every part of her didn't want to go anywhere at all.

Olivia looked into Fitz's eyes – a cool blue that softened every time they met her own brown eyes. A torturous mix of sadness and desire rose in the pit of her stomach as Fitz stopped, only a foot away from her now. The room was suddenly too hot, and had she not been so focused on the little dent above his lip, she would be amazed that she was still standing.

"I had to do it. You know I had to do it. And you being here right now is…" she paused, searching for words to say that wouldn't cut him – cut her – too deep "it's not conducive to anything."

When Fitz spoke next, his voice sounded scratched, like it was crumbling with every word, "You walked away from me on that hospital bed and for three months, I didn't see you. For three months, I couldn't hold you. And then when I can finally talk to you from a room that doesn't vaguely remind me of piss and sick, you tell me that it's over. I can't believe that. I can't believe those words Olivia. I can't believe that you would honestly tell me it's done. Why did you leave when you know you didn't want to? You can't say to me that you really wanted out of this, you can't tell me that you stopped loving me. So tell me Olivia, why did you do it? Because I know you didn't mean it."

The sides of Olivia's throat began to sting from tears fighting their way forth, and she could only whisper, "I almost lost you."

"You almost lost me?!" Fitz shouted so loudly that Olivia nearly dropped her purse to the ground. "You almost lost _me_?! I almost lost you! I thought you were gone Olivia, because all I had were those phone calls when I was in the hospital and then when I finally come out you leave. So no, I _did_ lose you. You left me. I couldn't eat Olivia, I couldn't sleep… but I still tried to understand why you did it. You are _the_ most important person to me, and I lost you. But when I saw you yesterday, I felt it and I had to come here. And I know that you telling me that I can't be here and that it's not safe is bull, because I know you felt it too. Tell me you didn't think I wasn't going to come here Liv. Tell me you didn't see the way I looked at you yesterday!"

Fitz was still shouting and Olivia's heart was breaking. He was yelling at her the painful and overwhelming truth at her she'd been trying to avoid. She couldn't listen to him. Tears were streaming down Olivia's face now and she wasn't going to stop them.

"Tell me it wasn't like we were the only people in the hall Olivia?!" Fitz yelled.

Out of a kind of frustration she couldn't recognize, Olivia yelled back, "What was I supposed to do?! Was I supposed to sit around and spend days crying over someone who I shouldn't be spending days crying over? Was I supposed to wait for someone who, when they returned, still wouldn't be mine? Am I supposed to sit here and be in love with you when I can't even," Olivia gasped, struggling to speak through the tears stuck in her throat, "I can't even hold your hand? _No!_ I have a _life_. I have a job. My job is not to fall in love with someone and tear him or her down in the process. You know what I do when I'm done helping a client Fitz? I leave them alone. I don't talk to them, I don't call them, I don't wait for them, I don't watch for them, and I definitely _do not_ fall in love with them. You have been _cheating on your wife_, cheating your _family_,and we've been letting it happen. It doesn't matter how you spin it, that's the truth. Everyday, I fall more and more in love with you and guess what? I'm still not any closer to getting what I want. And you know what else? That _hurts_."

Olivia breathed hard and leaned against the door. Her face was still wet but she was no longer crying.

"So Fitz, tell me you want us to continue only to be a secret forever. Tell me you want to keep doing this, and keep risking everything."

Fitz was silently staring at Olivia. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, thoughts he didn't how to say etched across his face.

"Tell me!" She shouted.

And then without warning - in what seemed like a quarter of a millisecond, Fitz was there. His lips were on her lips, hungrily and almost fearfully as though he were terrified they'd slip away. Everything else was forgotten and nonexistent as Olivia kissed him back. The familiarity of his lips was all she needed to lose herself to him, and she opened her mouth to let him in; feeling his tongue slide against hers. She pulled her jacket off, her lips never leaving his, and let it fall to floor while Fitz's arm snaked around her waist and his fingers felt for the small of her back. His body pressed into her own, his chest against her chest. Olivia ran her fingers through his hair and then dragged them up the back of his neck. Fitz's lips dropped down to her chin, grazed her neck, and then sucked just above her collarbone. Olivia gasped involuntarily, and then in one swift motion, Fitz had her on the couch, lying on her back and staring up into his cool blue eyes. She unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the ground, listening to the heavy sounds of his impatient and ragged breath. Fitz sat up and slid his hands up her legs. He peeled her dress away, leaving nothing left but a pair of panties. Quickly and expertly, he slid them off, letting his finger stroke against Olivia's moist, aching lips. Olivia sucked in a sharp breath and her body jerked upwards – her ribcage in the air while her tailbone dug into the couch. "Fitz," she moaned, pressing her thighs into his legs. The two of them looked at each other – all things left earlier unsaid, were said in silence. And in this moment, Olivia no longer felt like a secret. She felt powerful and sexy and loved, she felt so loved. Fitz slid his hand underneath Olivia's back and pulled her towards him, and then he leaned into her and pressed his cheek onto her own…. "My sweet, sweet baby," he whispered, and the closeness of his voice sent shivers down her sides. He slipped a finger deep inside her, encouraged by the heat and wetness he found there. "Fitz, Fitz, _oh_ _Fitz_." Olivia panted. She fell back against the arm of her couch and could only lie there silently, practically shivering with her need for him. Fitz unbuckled his pants and let everything drop to the floor as Olivia took him into her hands, feeling the passion beneath her fingers. Olivia brought her hands up to his back and in an instant she felt him enter her, large and throbbing. He filled her completely and she felt lost and weak trying to get as much of him as possible. Fitz slid himself in and out of Olivia, and lost in love and passion, he took her to the edge.

x X x

A little past midnight, Fitz and Olivia were lying in her bed in a tangle of sheets, pillows, and limbs. To their right, the light of a candle was dancing on the wall and casting shadows on Fitz's face. Olivia moved in closer and pressed her nose against his face, breathing in the scent of her lavender-scented shampoo. She had just taken a shower and Fitz, unwilling to leave her side, had joined her. She smiled to herself and reveled in the happiest moment in so long.

"Do you really use all of those shampoo, lotion, conditioner things in there?" Fitz asked.

Olivia laughed, "Yes. They all serve a purpose you know, even the pretty much empty ones."

"Hey, I'm not complaining." Fitz said, letting his hand rest on the soft curve of Olivia's waist.

Olivia looked him over as he lay on top of her comforter; her eyes scanned his body, strong and magnificent. With her index finger, she reached out and touched a short and fading scar on his right arm.

"This…does it hurt?"

"No, but it makes lifting up a 60lb weight feel like lifting Thor's hammer."

Olivia instantly pulled away, looking afraid. "But you lifted me up? Back by the door. Shouldn't you not have done that?"

Fitz laughed a deep and throaty laugh. He grabbed Olivia and pulled her on top of him. "Yes, I probably shouldn't have. But can you blame me?"

Taking care not to rest all her weight on him, Olivia traced all of Fitz's scars. She started at the uneven and raised scar on his chest and then drew a line up across his jaw line to the scar right above his eyebrow.

"Craniotomy?"

"No," Fitz said clearing his throat, "that's where the bullet grazed."

He sat up a little and parted through his short hair to reveal to her a large C-shaped scar, barely starting to fade.

"That, is the craniotomy," he told her.

Olivia could only look at him. She scooted downwards to rest her head on his stomach.

"I called Cyrus every other day to ask about you. I think by the end of the first month he really hated me. But he told me everything, from…when they put in the tube in your chest to when they took it out, to the number of nurses that visited you..."

"You did? He never told me that."

"I asked him not to. I really wanted to visit you though."

"I know," Fitz said quietly. "When they took me out from the under the coma, I slept for almost entire days for about a month. And then when I realized that you hadn't once come in to visit me, I had to ask where you were. When he told me what had happened, I wanted to scream. But you know, with my lung and all," Fitz patted his chest, "the doctor advised against that."

"Where are Tom and Hal anyway?"

Fitz chuckled and combed his fingers through Olivia's hair before resting them on her naked shoulder, "Tom's downstairs outside somewhere, and Hal is standing just outside – plain-clothed."

"Mm," Olivia murmured, running her lips down Fitz's left bicep. "How did the conference with Christie and Boehner go?"

"Remember when I told you how Sally Langston was looking at me when I came back into the Oval?"

"Yeah?" Olivia giggled.

"Multiply that by five. Democrats aren't happy with Boehner, New York isn't happy, New Jersey isn't happy, and some Republicans are embarrassed. We all know that Congress adopted the legislation but it doesn't change people's attitudes. In fact, I think his re-election had the undesired effect, for him at least."

"That's an understatement. And good, you should be embarrassed. The chamber was criticized big time for not acting quickly enough on such a necessary aid package, so what you _need_ to do is make sure you publicly distance yourself from that attitude. This isn't some unnecessary billion going to private interest groups."

Fitz leaned in and kissed Olivia, "You know, I think I actually might like you, just a little bit."

Olivia laughed and turned over onto her back so that he was lying underneath her while she looked up at the ceiling. She reached out and pulled his hands down to rest on her stomach.

"Thanks, you're too sweet. The jury's still out on you though."

Fitz kissed the top of her forehead and the two of them sat and talked about everything they didn't have the chance to say in the last four months, and then some. And then somewhere a little bit before three in the morning, they finally fell asleep – content and the happiest either of them had been in a long, long while.

x X x

It was almost six in the morning when Fitz awoke to see Olivia kneeling in bed and fiddling with her robe. It had been nine hours since he'd arrived at her apartment door, and he was still dancing inside at the fact that he was finally here with her again. He watched her silently, not yet letting her know that he was awake. Her hair was mussed with limp curls and flyaways, but she was still breathtaking. Olivia's skin – possibly his favorite part about her – was glowing a soft brown that melted his insides. No matter where she was or what she was doing, her skin was always the softest thing he'd ever felt. He could spend hours doing nothing else but running his hands over every part of her body. She was the most amazing, most stunning, most magnetic, and most intelligent person he had ever known, and even though she still wouldn't believe it, he was hers.

Olivia cinched the belt on her robe and noticed Fitz looking at her.

"You're awake," she noted, leaning in to kiss him.

"How long have you been up?" Fitz asked, a little disappointed to think that Olivia had been up for hours and hadn't bothered to wake him for company.

"Like ten minutes ago," she shrugged.

A vibration buzzed somewhere on the bed, and Olivia picked up her cell phone and started quickly texting. Instinctively, Fitz reached over and checked his own phone – "Missed Call (7): "CYRUS", "CYRUS" "MELLIE", "TOM", "TOM", "MELLIE", "CYRUS" – all of them within the past twenty minutes. He scrunched up his forehead, and sat up in bed, feeling Olivia's eyes on him, concerned.

"What's up?" She asked.

"Hold on," he put up a hand.

Fitz got out of Olivia's bed and stood in the corner of her room. He held his breath and dialed Cyrus back, who answered on the second ring.

"Where in the fucking _hell_ have you been Fitz?" Cyrus hissed, angrily.

"Cyrus, where are you? What's going on?" Fitz asked. In the background, he heard too many different, unfamiliar voices. One of them shouted above the rest, "they're ten minutes apart, sir!"

"Mr. Grant, I don't know where you are, but your ass better find itself at Walter Reed Medical Center right now! Mellie is in labor."

The line went dead. Fitz held his cell phone in his hand watching Cyrus's name blink three times before his phone went back to its home screen. He looked over at Olivia, who was staring at him expectantly.

"Mellie's in labor."

Olivia opened her mouth and then she quickly composed herself, "Go. Don't stand here; you need to be there. What hospital? Call Tom and Hal to make sure they're ready."

"Yeah…they uh…they know. They called me." Fitz muttered, watching Olivia quickly gather Fitz's things – his belted pants, his tie, his shirt. She handed them to him and he took them from her.

"Liv, I –," he began, but she cut him off.

"Shh, just get ready. Fast."

Because he knew her too well, Fitz knew that the look on her face was only masking something much more heartbreaking. As he got dressed and listened to her assure him that she was fine and that they both knew he needed to be with Mellie and that any other argument was moot, Fitz's mind was elsewhere. He could only picture her: Olivia in the Rose Garden at a surprising loss for words when he declared his need for her, Olivia admitting her own love in front of The Constitution of the United States, Olivia sitting next to him on the campaign bus, Olivia placing a pin on his lapel…. All he wanted to do was hold her and never let her go.

Fitz stood at the door with her right behind him. He turned to look at her and she smiled, shooing him away with her hand. Quickly, he leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips.

"I'll come back," he pled.

Olivia only smiled and didn't respond. So he turned around and left without looking back, knowing that if he did, he would never leave.

**After almost four months apart, Fitz and Olivia are finally together, just the two of them. But as fate it would have it, they were interrupted by Mellie and the newest Grant member (yay babies!). Poor Fitz wanted to stay, but his heart lost the battle with his head and so off he went. No one seems to really like Edison (he's no Fitz), but he **_**is**_** available, they must have had something really special at one point, and she does like him. Plus I think he probably wants to stick around in Olivia's life for a bit longer than last time. To everyone who has been reading, following, and reviewing – THANK YOU. Still no idea on how often I'm doing updates, but probably as soon as I write a chapter. **


	7. Keep On Rockin' Me Baby

Huck was sitting at his computer and typing furiously when Olivia walked into Pope & Associates.

"Huck," she said apologetically when she saw him.

He shrugged, "No questions."

Olivia smiled at him graciously and handed him a full paper bag. He peered inside of it and looked up at her, dumbfounded.

"Double toasted with smoked salmon and cream cheese. And don't look at me like that, it's not an apology. Just a thank you." Olivia laughed. "Are Abby and Quinn still at the Jovanni murder scene?"

"They left thirty minutes ago," Huck mumbled, mouth full of bagel.

"And Harrison's coaching the client?"

"He's in the room right now."

"Good. And you are?"

"Narrowing it down to 6 Richard Trudeaus in the DMV area, but no Silver Springs yet."

"Perfect," Olivia dropping her into the nearest chair.

She picked up her cell phone – "Missed Call (1), Voicemail (1)" – it was from Edison: "_Liv, hey. I'm sorry I didn't call you last night like I said I would. I hope everything's okay. I ended up bumping into an old friend and had an impromptu sidecar down in Adams Morgan and I know that's not an excuse but –_," Olivia quickly skipped over the message. She realized that she hadn't even thought about Edison ever since she had left the restaurant last night, and more importantly, she realized that there wasn't even a detectable part of her that felt badly for what had happened on her way out of her apartment. Unsure of what to do with him, Olivia decided to wait and figure it out later. She scrolled through the rest of her phone calls since this morning, hoping to see a name she knew she wouldn't find there. It was a little after twelve, six hours since Fitz had left her apartment, and she felt an unwarranted disappointment at the fact that he hadn't called, and a nagging fear that something had changed.

"Got him!" Huck yelled over his shoulder, breaking Olivia out of her thoughts.

She hurried over and leaned on the back of Huck's chair as he read aloud the information.

"Richard Trudeau, 36-years-old, Silver Springs, Maryland. Phone number 301-252-5462. Mother's maiden name is Baumgart, he was born March 6, 1976. Visa number 4532 5130 4623 1715 with a CVV of 337, social security number 497-09-4670. He last worked as a telephone service representative for Matrix Design from 1997 to 2001. He drives a 1999 Mercedes-Benz CLK Class, AB blood type, 6'2" at 231 pounds…" Huck continued to recite the information collected as Olivia nodded, listening carefully.

Huck paused, "Date of death, January 16, 2002. Cause…respiratory arrest." he said slowly.

"What?" Olivia blurted out.

She hovered over Huck's shoulder to stare at his computer screen. And there, in perfect size 12 Times New Roman font read, "DATE OF DEATH: JANUARY 16, 2002, 10:45PM, CAUSE OF DEATH: RESPIRATORY ARREST."

Olivia spun around, her mind quickly putting together pieces. _A random, relatively unknown 36-year-old Silver Springs man who worked as a telephone service representative and died over ten years ago was getting memory cards from rigged voting machines? Too easy_, she thought to opened up her phone and speed-dialed, waiting for an answer.

"I don't want to talk to you right now Olivia."

"Cyrus, please."

"I had to scramble out of bed at some God awful hour this morning because your precious President was nowhere to be found. In The White House that is, he was nowhere to be found in The White House."

"Cyrus – where are you?"

"I'm about to negotiate with Congress. I'm doing important things; I'm doing relevant things. I don't have the time nor the –,"

Olivia didn't wait for another word and quickly hung up, leaving Cyrus to ramble. She grabbed her purse, and checked her watch before heading to the door, "Huck, I'll be back."

x X x

Olivia's cab slowed down and came to a stop in front of the beautiful Georgetown brownstone she'd been to so many times before. She walked up the winding stone staircase, and knocked the old-fashioned doorknocker. A moment later, he opened the door.

"James," Olivia smiled.

"Olivia! Wow, hi. It's so good to see you. Cyrus actually isn't here."

"I know," Olivia nodded and stepped forward, "Can I come in?"

"Absolutely, of course." James said quickly, letting Olivia walk past him and inside the apartment.

"You know, every night I used to catch Cyrus texting you pictures of Albert. I might need to start charging."

"Is he awake?"

"No," James said, a little startled by Olivia's abruptness. "He's actually sleeping. It's a sleep-wake thing. Apparently, newborns sleep for like 70% of the day. And I guess none of the night," James laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Olivia looked around – there were baby bottles on the kitchen countertops, a baby monitor on the coffee table, the television was on, and there was some commercial about IAMS®.

"So," James piped, "can I get you something to drink?"

"Who is Richard Trudeau, James?" Olivia asked.

James faltered, "Who?"

"Richard Trudeau. Telephone service representative, 6'2", 36-years-old, Visa number 4532 5130 4623 1715, AB blood type, mother's maiden name Baumgart."

"I uh…I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're asking, Olivia."

"You didn't know all that? But I bet you knew that Richard Trudeau died in 2002 from a respiratory arrest, right? That's why you took the name of some unknown deceased of eleven years?"

"If this is some sort of mistake, I don't know anything, really, Olivia." James dug his hands deeper into his pockets as Olivia stared at him, unblinking.

"I know that you know about the rigged voting machines and Defiance, Ohio, James. I know that you've been using Richard Trudeau to call up oil corporations and to post online articles. And we're not even going to play the game where you deny it and then eventually come clean after I present inarguable evidence. So let's just cut to it and talk openly now."

Olivia pulled out the printed posts on _Capitol Jill_ and James dropped into the couch and put his head in his hands.

"Why are you doing this James? I know you're a journalist with a penchant for a juicy story but…Cyrus…he's your husband. You have Albert, you have this place, I –,"

"I know, I know," James muttered, rubbing his palms against his forehead. He looked up at Olivia, pleadingly. "I tried to think of everything to keep it away from Cyrus and away from me. I didn't want to be behind this Olivia, but we're talking about a possibly completely false election, a false _presidency_. The story needed to be run. Everyone always talks about how the American people's vote doesn't even count, and that we should completely eradicate the Electoral College. But vote count or not, this election was rigged Olivia. It's only been two years and even though next year's not an election year, this is big, _major_ stuff. Cyrus knew we had our political differences during the campaign, but still, as someone who went out and voted, and as someone who's job it is to inform people, I can't just sit by and let this happen."

Olivia sat down next to James, "So you'd rather just secretly take down the President's job – Cyrus's job?" she asked quietly.

"Please, don't say it like that."

Olivia looked down at her hands before speaking again, "You need to end this James. Stop pushing whatever journalist agenda it is that you have because trust me, you can make this _very_, _very_ messy for yourself. I've been in this kind of game long enough to see people get destroyed, get hurt, and have their images publicly eviscerated. You need to listen to me. Quit now and leave this alone."

"I can't, I wish I could. I've been up all night wishing I could…but," James's shoulders sagged in defeat, "it's out of my hands."

"What does that mean? What are you saying?"

"That blog post you have? _Capitol Jill_? When I found the information, they just wanted me to run it under them because I was an actual journalist. They thought I'd garner them some publicity, called me "chief journalist" and crap like that. They didn't really believe what I was saying. But then I got this phone call last night from this blocked number. It was some guy who saw what I had written and he said he knew more about it than me. He told me he needed to use it more than I did – I don't know, something like that. Anyway, he offered me this crazy amount of money to sell him the story. Said he had the means to get it out to a big newspaper and that he'd run my story under a fictitious byline if I wanted to. He told to me meet up with him last night at The Reef but when I got there, the bartender just handed me this check in an envelope; he said it was left for me, along with a free drink. So I just took the money, called this guy back and gave him that Richard Trudeau name, and e-mailed the story to an untraceable e-mail account he gave me. I haven't cashed the check yet, I feel nauseous every time I look at it – but the story's supposed to run in the Post Monday morning."

Olivia looked at James, who was wiping his palms on the legs of his khakis. She could hardly believe that Cyrus's husband and father to his son, was willing to sell a story that could potentially ruin Cyrus, and everyone else involved in Defiance. She didn't understand why, but in a way, she felt almost sorry for him and in her gut, she knew he was telling the truth about wanting to end it all and take it all back. Olivia opened her mouth to speak when suddenly, the "Special News Report" theme sounded and both of them turned their heads to the television. James fumbled with the volume button as a young blonde woman appeared on the screen.

"…_Thank you Bryan. Time and temperature is 1:06pm at 69 degrees and we have a very special and heartwarming news report. Sources at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center have confirmed that at exactly 11:43am today, Wednesday May 16, 2012, The First Lady gave birth to son Isaac Fitzgerald Grant. Deborah is live outside The White House."_

The screen zoomed to a brunette standing in front of The White House gates:

"_Kathy, The First Lady is not due to return home with baby Isaac until the earliest expected day we're told, is Friday. But the atmosphere outside of The White House is simply euphoric. A growing group of people have –,"_

Immediately, Olivia turned away from the television and sat up. Her entire body had just gone cold and all she wanted to do was get out of that apartment. Looking alarmed, James got up from the couch too.

"Give me your number," Olivia demanded, flipping open her phone. She stared at the numbered buttons in a weak effort to block out Deborah. "If he calls you again, don't answer and call me immediately. If he e-mails you, don't even open it and just call me immediately. Understood?"

Flustered, James nodded and recited his cell phone number to Olivia. When he finished, she snapped it shut and stuffed it into her purse.

"And James?"

"Yes?" James looked up.

"Don't tell Cyrus."


	8. You're All I've Got Tonight

In the cab ride on the way back to Pope & Associates, Olivia's mind was in overdrive –strategizing, planning, and thinking of ways to stop this in its tracks before it got any worse. She trusted that James would heed her demands to call if anything or anyone came up, but now that she was absolutely certain that he was involved, she had no idea what to do with Cyrus. She felt that she had done the right thing by telling James not to let Cyrus know what he had been up to, but now, the problem of breaking the news to her friend was in her hands. Olivia felt her phone ring in her purse on her lap – "CYRUS."

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk to me?" She answered.

Ignoring her completely, Cyrus began to rant, "Did you know that at five in the morning, my phone was being blown to pieces by a Melanie Grant, who was screaming something about contractions and the fact that her husband was missing? Now, Mellie's no idiot, so I'm sure she didn't buy my cock and bull story about Fitz going on an early morning run with Tom and Hal, but in case you were worried, I probably bought you an extra twenty or so minutes to come up with a more elaborate and believable lie of your own."

"I don't know what you're talking about Cyrus. But if this is why you called me, I can't talk right now, I'm busy."

"Olivia, you need to stop this."

"Stop what?" Olivia snapped defensively.

"I don't know where you and –," Cyrus dropped his voice to a whisper, "where you guys are planning to go with this, but there's a dead end somewhere on this road, and it's not a pretty suburban cul-de-sac with jump-roping kids and barking Yorkshires either."

"Let me just stop you while you're ahead Cyrus. I don't work for you, so I don't respond to your orders or your requests. So unless you're calling me about something important or _relevant_, I'm not talking about this with you anymore."

"Olivia, I'm looking out for the both of you here. I mean if it comes down to it, you can bet on every pastel-colored jacket you own that I'd save his presidency before your reputation, but it doesn't have to be that way. I'm just playing the role of the annoying voice of reason," Cyrus sighed.

Olivia didn't answer. She pictured James sitting back in the apartment, probably feeding a now awake and alert Albert, and she wondered how he would react when Cyrus finally came home. Would he cave out of guilt and confess? Or would he go on silently and fearfully waiting for Monday morning to arrive? And as much as the truth in Cyrus's blunt words made her start to feel resentful towards him, she believed that like he said, he was just looking out for her.

Olivia cleared her throat, "Cyrus, I need you to leave Defiance up to me. If you hear something, let me know – otherwise, I'm handling it."

"I thought –,"

"I said I'm handling it Cyrus, just leave it alone."

x X x

It was raining by the time Olivia finally crawled into bed a few minutes past 11:30pm. She had spent the rest of her day working with Abby, Quinn, and Harrison on the case of a legislator who was heavily suspected of mail fraud and filing false payroll forms, and she was absolutely exhausted. She heard her phone vibrate somewhere underneath her comforters and she reached for it – "FITZ". Olivia sucked in a deep breath and pressed the phone against her chest for a moment before answering, nervous for what she might hear.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi." Fitz said back quietly, "I was afraid you wouldn't answer."

Olivia could hear the smile on his face and in his voice, and instantly she felt the chaos of the day wash away. She sank down underneath her comforter, remembering all too well that less than twenty-four hours ago he was lying right next to her.

"Congratulations," she said, sincerely.

"21 inches long, seven pounds, eight ounces. All five fingers and toes, and beautiful scores on the APGAR," Fitz laughed.

"That's so amazing Fitz, I'm really happy for you."

"Where are you right now?" Fitz's voice was low, and serious.

"Home, in bed." Olivia answered, hoping he'd say something like "_I'm outside_" or "_be ready in five minutes_."

There was a moment's silence on the other end before Fitz spoke, "I was so happy this morning and last night, you have no idea Livvy."

Olivia didn't say anything; all she wanted to do was listen.

"Is it weird…is it wrong of me to wish it were you in that delivery room?" Fitz continued, hesitantly.

Olivia pulled her comforter up to her chin, feeling a confusing and overwhelming mixture of ecstasy and apprehension at the candidness of Fitz's words. The answer to his question was obvious – _no_ – but she couldn't bring herself to say that; she couldn't bring herself to admit that she too painted mental pictures of an impossible future together.

Fitz continued, "I know it's definitely weird to be back in this hospital. Last time I was here and all these doctors and nurses kept telling me that at the rate I was going, they had no doubt that I'd recover to fully resume office, you know what I thought? I thought, _dammit_." He laughed softly, "That's what I thought. Because for so long I've just wanted to get back to this normal, everyday kind of life. Being a leader of the free world has its perks, don't get me wrong, and I'm the tough man for this tough job, but what does it even matter when I can't have what I really want?"

Olivia blinked her eyes rapidly and looked up at the ceiling, not allowing herself to cry.

"Liv?" Fitz prompted.

Olivia sniffled, "Yeah?"

"No, don't cry Olivia."

"I'm not crying, I'm just really happy for you." Olivia said. She sat up and positioned herself cross-legged, stuffing a pillow in her lap and underneath her chin.

"That's all you have to say?"

"What else can I say? Yesterday was amazing you know that. I spent all day imaging that it hadn't ended, but it did. This is what I mean Fitz, it's always going to end and never when we want it to or how we want it to."

"Why are you talking like this? We spent a great night together Olivia. I spent all this time waiting to be with you again just to hold you and to be around you, and to see you laugh and smile and say things that make me go 'wow, this is the woman I love, this is the exquisite and brilliant woman I fell in love with'. And then I spend all day waiting for a moment to call you and to hear you, and now you're talking about things ending. What happened to the romantic bone in your body?"

Olivia laughed in spite of the situation, "It's still there, I'm just telling you that right now I'm here in my apartment alone, and you're in the hospital while your wife and your son are waiting for you."

"No one's waiting for me."

"Fitz, please –,"

"Olivia, listen to me. I _love_ you, I am _in love_ with you."

"I love you too."

"Okay, so don't worry about anyone or anything waiting for me. Talk to me like it's just the two of us in this."

"Okay," Olivia breathed.

"Okay," Fitz echoed quietly. "So what are you wearing?"

Olivia threw back her head and laughed. She rolled over onto her side and looked outside the window, the rain had picked up speed and was now lashing against the glass. She pictured him sitting in a corner chair in a hospital waiting room, flanked by Secret Service.

"Hmm, it's a light pink, satin nightgown with these really nice lacy straps and a lacy back."

"Ooh, I like that one," Fitz murmured appreciatively.

"You don't even remember that one."

"Of course I do, I remember everything."

Silently inside her mind, Olivia groaned, frustrated with the way she succumbed to everything that came out of his mouth – captivating, sexy, and reassuring. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Fitz's breathing on the other end.

"How long are you going to stay there?" She asked.

"Probably all night, they come home tomorrow. And I want to speak to the doctor first thing tomorrow morning."

"Oh," Olivia said, slightly disappointed. She yawned, unable to stop herself.

"Tired?"

"No," Olivia said quickly.

Fitz laughed, "I'm going to let you go now Liv."

"Fine."

"Sweet baby?"

"Yes?"

"Good morning."

Olivia opened her eyes to look at her bedside alarm clock and smiled – 12:03AM.

"Good morning, Fitz."

And knowing that he wouldn't hang up until she did, she closed her phone, placed it underneath her pillow, and fell into a deep sleep.


	9. Shattered

Olivia stood before her coffeemaker the next morning, replaying last night's conversation in her mind. She could hardly keep from smiling as she stared at her cell phone's record of Fitz's phone call. And as tired as she had been the night before, she had still lain awake after she hung up, hoping that he'd ignore her protesting yawns and call back. The familiar vibrating of her phone signaled a sudden incoming call – "EDISON". Olivia sighed – she had spent the past two days wondering if she should call him and what she should say to him, and how. She wasn't sure what the protocol was for breaking up with someone – twice. Olivia took a sip of her coffee, and answered.

"Hi."

"Olivia, I feel like I haven't talked to you in days."

"I've been really busy," Olivia said, trying to keep her voice polite and unemotional.

"Sure, sure, I know. I just kind of missed you that's all. I feel like we haven't been on the same wavelength for the past few days."

Olivia felt a twinge of guilt at these words and tried to find an appropriate segue.

"So, are you free for lunch?" Edison asked, interrupting her attempt at a transition. "Or dinner? I'm not picky."

"Edison," she began cautiously, "I can't."

"I know you're probably busy, and I'm about to head on the Metro myself so just call me and tell me when you're free okay?"

She nodded even though she knew he couldn't see her, and the line went dead.

x X x

"Her alibi checks out, and why would she lie to us?" Abby asked.

A couple hours after her phone call with Edison, Olivia was perched on the edge of the large conference room table at Pope & Associates with Abby, Quinn, and Harrison sitting around her, and sixteen crime scene pictures from a Georgetown hotel room stuck to the translucent windowpanes behind her.

"People lie. People are afraid of the truth, people are afraid of what the truth can do to them and to others," Olivia said simply.

"But she was in Arlington when it happened, which gives her virtually no time to get back to the Four Seasons even when the party started, much less to kill someone and then leave."

"And yet she was found with what looks like the victim's caked blood under her Burberry rain boots," Olivia pointed out. "Have you convinced her yet to come in here and speak with us?"

"She still won't. I think she's still in shock. I mean, her friend just _died_," Quinn piped up.

"_Or_ she's scared to talk. Her father's governor so I'm sure he's keeping her quiet for whatever reason. Get _him_ in here instead, and get him to talk; get him to spill whatever incriminating thing he's hiding before his daughter ends up facing something much meaner than a Georgetown University disciplinary council," Olivia said. She felt her phone vibrate in front pocket of her pants – "CYRUS".

"So Abby, find the governor, and Quinn, Harrison – try to see if you delay those lab results on the boots," Olivia said swiftly, hopping off the table. "And don't forget to remind him of my number one rule, don't lie to me," she shouted at the group as they headed off. She flipped open her phone as she stepped into her office.

"Cy, what's up?"

"Olivia, I need you to come here," Cyrus said, sounding high-strung and impatient.

"I'm working Cyrus, what do you need?"

"I _need_ you to get down here, immediately, with a capital I."

"I'm sorry but did I miss the part where I work for you?"

"It isn't Fitz's, Olivia."

"What is?" Olivia shut the door to her office. "What isn't Fitz's?"

"Isaac, he's not his."

Stunned, Olivia leaned against the door.

"What?" she whispered, "No, how do you know this?"

"He told me."

"Who told you?

"Big Bird, you didn't that know he lives here now? Who else?" Cyrus snapped.

"No, that's not possible. Maybe Fitz is mistaken, maybe he's just concerned, but –,"

"He blood typed Olivia. The man blood typed."

"Wow," she began slowly, "how is he? Where is he?"

"Shut up in the Oval. I don't know, he just asked me to call you."

"I don't know Cy, what do you even expect me to do about this now? I mean, he just found about it right? How could I help?"

"Look, it's not me who's asking you to come here Olivia, it's him. So give me an answer so I get back to the man?"

Olivia bit her bottom lip nervously and looked up at her watch, "Okay, I'll be there in thirty."

x X x

Olivia nudged open the door to the Oval Office and saw Fitz sitting at his chair, arms outstretched with his feet up on the desk. It had been quite a while since the last time she was here and it looked exactly the same.

"Hi," she said quietly, feeling unusually as though she were intruding on something.

"You're here," Fitz said simply, peering over his toes.

"Cyrus told me you called for me and why…" Olivia stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and walked towards him.

"I did," Fitz leaned back into his chair.

"Fitz, I am so, so sorry about this," Olivia began.

"A taste of my own medicine I suppose."

Olivia didn't know what to say to that, so she fell silent and only watched him, trying to gauge the emotions on his face, which was for the first time – unreadable.

"You know when you have a feeling?" Fitz started, taking his feet down and sitting upright; his voice was even and controlled. "I had one of those, something just didn't feel right."

"You knew? This whole time you knew he wasn't yours?"

"I didn't know, exactly. I felt. Plus, there weren't really a whole lot of opportunities for this to plausibly be mine."

"Who is he?" She asked, sitting down in the chair across from him. She felt strange to have such a large desk separating them.

"Christopher Bissell. Not sure what I should do with him yet."

"Wow," Olivia said under her breath. "I'm sorry. I would never have expected this. But, I'm sure there's a way we could keep this from getting out, I'm sure there's a way we could keep it under control. We can start by looking at donors – the idea of having an anonymous donor is less…unscrupulous. And although there is the fact that you and Mellie went public about her pregnancy months ago, I'm sure we could –,"

"You know what Olivia? I'm not so sure I want that," Fitz interrupted.

"What?"

"I'm not so sure I want to keep it under control. I don't really think I care if people find out. I mean she lied, so what? People cheat, people lie."

"Fitz, you don't mean that…" Olivia said, holding Fitz's gaze, which was steady and unnerving.

"I didn't expect it from you though Olivia."

"What?"

"I didn't expect that you would lie to me."

"Lie to you? About _what_?" Olivia asked, feeling confused and nervous.

Fitz opened up the drawer in his desk and pulled out from inside of it a manila envelope, which he dropped onto the mahogany wood and slid towards Olivia, "Secret Service handed them to me this morning."

Olivia picked it up, opened it, and pulled them out – five large photos of her and Edison clearly taken over a period of the past month, and clearly taken without her knowledge: Edison and Olivia walking and holding hands, Edison and Olivia kissing at Rasika, Edison and Olivia, Edison and Olivia….

"You had me _followed_?" she asked, disbelievingly. She looked from Fitz to the photos, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"Surveillance, I like to call it," Fitz responded quietly, surveying her.

"Why would you do this?" Olivia sputtered, "Why would you take pictures of me and…follow me? Who did this? Tom, Hal?"

"I thought that was over, Olivia. I thought you were done with him. I assumed that when we started, and when I saw you here last week…there was no one else," Fitz leaned in and rested his elbows on the desk. "So tell me, was it before or after someone tried to shoot my brains out did you jump into bed with him?"

"Stop talking like that, that is _not_ fair," Olivia warned.

Her heart was beating fast against her chest; pounding loudly in her ears.

"Why didn't you tell me? When I came over that night, why didn't you tell me?" Fitz stood up and looked at Olivia.

"I don't know…I was happy, I didn't think about it. I just saw you standing in my apartment and I…I don't know. I wasn't thinking about him, I was just trying to be with you," she cried.

Olivia she tried to explain how she felt – or rather, how she didn't feel – for Edison, but as she looked into Fitz's face, she could feel her own words fail her.

"I was there – in your bed, in your room, in your kitchen…. Have you talked to him since that night?"

Olivia was silent.

"Have you talked to him since that night Olivia?" Fitz demanded, his voice getting louder.

"Do _not_ yell at me," Olivia said evenly, standing up to face him.

Fitz laughed dryly.

"When I was gone, you had Amanda Tanner didn't you?" She spat.

"Oh come on, don't turn this around on me Olivia, you're smarter than that. Amanda and I never had a relationship. But this guy, Edison _Davis_, Senator of the Intelligence Committee. I mean here you two are sharing Indian food on D Street and holding hands by the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial," Fitz gestured disdainfully towards the photos in Olivia's hands. "I could have him fired, you know that? I could literally call him here right now and fire him on the spot, with you standing right there."

"I know you are mad and hurt about Isaac and Mellie, but let me explain to –,"

"I am _not_ mad about Issac, Olivia! I am mad that you let me hold you three nights ago and you couldn't even tell me there was someone else."

"There wasn't!" Olivia cried. "There _isn't. _I was trying to get _over_ you, I was trying to move –,"

"Do you love him?" Fitz demanded suddenly.

For a moment time felt suspended, and as though she were in a dream falling from some great height, Olivia felt her heart drop and her body freeze – preparing for the cruel and inevitable landing.

"What…?" She asked softly, watching Fitz's eyes watch her. "No…_no_! How could you ask me that?"

Fitz slumped down into his chair and massaged his forehead with his fingers. He looked up at Olivia, letting her read every line of heartbreak etched all over his face, "Just go, Olivia, please."

"Fitz…"

"_Go!_" he yelled.

Olivia felt tears clawing their way up her throat and burning the her eyes, so without looking at him, she turned and left the Oval Office. As she rounded the corner into Cross Hall, she almost collided with a short beige dress – Mellie.

"Olivia," Mellie's voice was sweet and not betraying of her surprise. "I can only assume that you're here because he told you, then? I'm surprised you didn't stop over by the bedroom to gloat."

"Mellie, you're going to need to excuse me but I can't stay to talk," Olivia said, her anger mounting. She was standing inches away from Mellie now, her brown eyes boring into Mellie's own blue.

"So soon? You're not even going to bother trying to take him with you? Don't think I didn't know where he was Wednesday morning, Olivia. You know, I'm a bit surprised actually, that he called you considering you keep finding yourself in a similar situation. But I guess that sort of makes you a real expert on this stuff right?"

"You _lied_ to him. You watched him fight for his life in a hospital bed and you still couldn't spare an ounce of honesty to tell him that one of the only three things he loves about you isn't even real?" She asked, feeling the strain of her words on her throat.

"I know this must be hurtful for you to Liv, to see him so upset, but what I tell and don't tell my husband doesn't exactly fall in your jurisdiction does it? So unless you're coming up with a way to keep this from damaging his presidency, I don't really see a way where you can be useful."

A moment's silence passed as Mellie waited with a practiced smile plastered across her face.

"See, that's where you're wrong Mellie," Olivia began, stepping closer towards Mellie. "That's what you've been failing to understand this entire time. The American people might fall head over heels for your deep and heartfelt quest to uplift the homeless, and they might fawn over every fashion choice you make that hits the cover of "People", but you are nothing but a political celebrity; a public image used only to spur good feeling and good family values in the hearts of voters. But without me, those people wouldn't know even who you are. It was _me_ who got you to where you are right now, and it was me who pushed your husband so that you could finally end up someplace being someone worth being. Your Social Secretary? I got you that. Your state arrival ceremonies? I got you that. And your "America's Baby" wouldn't have even seen the light of conception if it weren't for me. You are just a product of everything I have done and everything I have gotten for your husband. In short, I _made_ you, and I can take you back down in less than the time it takes for you to lick the back of a state dinner invitation envelope. If there's one thing you need to remember, it's that you and I both know what I know and how I could spin it to destroy you, and only you."

And feeling triumphant at the embarrassed and broken look on The First Lady's face, Olivia turned on her heel and left.

x X x

Fitz sat at his desk; the image of Olivia leaving was burned into his memory. He wanted to throw something, he wanted to call her and tell her to come back, and he wanted to apologize and then yell again at the thought of someone else touching her hair, touching her skin…. He put his head in his hands, feeling tightness, worry, and sadness grip him in a way he hadn't felt that Wednesday night…

"Mr. President," the doctor opened the door to Mellie's room and beckoned Fitz outside.

"Dr. Drysdale," Fitz closed the door behind him.

"Blood test results as you requested, sir."

"And?" he asked.

"As you already know, your blood type is type A and The First Lady – type O."

"And Isaac's?"

The doctor paused, "B."

All noise in the room had stopped as Fitz the news wash over him, cold and unforgiving. He looked at the tiles on the floor underneath his feet.

"And?" He asked.

"What this means Mr. President is that with your A blood type, it is…biologically impossible for your son to be type B. In order for that to happen, your blood type must be either B or AB."

Fitz nodded slowly and let out a short, dry, laugh. There was a moment's silence before the doctor handed Fitz a copy of the blood type paperwork.

"I'm sorry Mr. President. If there's anything else you'd like to ask, I would be happy to inform you," Dr. Drysdale said solemnly.

"No, no…that's all, thank you."

Dr. Drysdale nodded politely and left, leaving Fitz to stand outside of Mellie's room. He looked at the paperwork in his hands and its grayscale splotches of scanned blood swam hazily, in and out of focus, before his eyes. He was far from surprised, having suspected since Mellie told him she was pregnant nine months ago, but nonetheless, he felt stupid and cheated out of an opportunity he would have loved to have. Slowly, Fitz sat down in one of the chairs outside of the room and remembered newborn crying Isaac, red-faced and covered in gray, taking in his first breaths of life. He remembered the look on Mellie's face once the nurse had placed Isaac in her arms, and the look on her face when she asked Fitz to hold him. And so Fitz sat that way, remembering and thinking to himself of what he could have had. An hour later, he rolled up the paper in his right hand and walked back into Mellie's room where she lay awake, the television on and on mute. She looked up at him and smiled with tired eyes.

"You're here," she said softly, "I woke up and I thought you'd left."

Silently, Fitz took the seat next to her and looked beyond her sheets and at Isaac, who was resting in his bassinet, his small stomach rising up and down with every breath.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Mellie breathed, following Fitz's gaze.

Silence passed between the two of them for some time before she looked over at him, concerned.

"You've been quiet. What's that in your hand?"

Fitz looked at the roll of paper gripped in his hand before turning to her, "Did you ever expect this? That we'd end up here in a hospital having a fake baby to save my presidency?"

"What?" Mellie asked, using her palms to prop herself upright.

"Did you ever expect us to be here, where we are now?

"Fitz, what is this about?"

Fitz unrolled the blood type test gingerly, and rolled it backwards across his leg, taking care to smooth out any curve or kink. Then he placed it carefully on Mellie's blanket and watched her eyes scan it over.

"What does this mean? What are you showing me?" she asked.

Fitz stretched out in the chair and looked at his watch – 10:53pm, "Almost exactly five hours ago, I asked Dr. Drysdale to run a blood type test for Isaac. He ran it and here it is – healthy baby boy with a B blood type. I know you were a poli sci major so forgive me if I'm overestimating your handle on biology, but I think you know that's not possible. At least for me, anyway."

Fitz hadn't expected Mellie to protest or even deny it, so when she remained quiet when he spoke, he was hardly surprised.

"I didn't plan for this," she finally said.

Fitz looked at her, his eyes searching her own. For a moment, he pictured the Fitzgerald Grant III of four years ago and imagined what his face would have looked like if he had been told that three years from now, he would be sitting in the hospital next to his wife, who had just given birth to someone else's child. Fitz wanted to laugh at ridiculousness of the situation, at the callousness of the atmosphere between them, and the fact that he didn't care as much he thought he should. And in Mellie's face, he could see years of friendship, years of mutual appreciation for and understanding of each other's political goals and ambition…but there was no love there, and perhaps he thought, there never was.

"Who is he?" he asked simply.

Mellie lowered her eyes, "Chris, Christopher Bissell."

"Deputy Director of Scheduling & Events…" Fitz said slowly. "Now _that_ is surprising. For the first time today, something has surprised me."

"That's all you have to say?" Mellie asked, incredulous.

"What else is there to say?"

"You're not going to get upset? You're not going to ask me when? You're not going to bother finding out how this happened? You went through all the trouble to prove it and you're not even going to ask _why_?"

"No," he answered. "I'm not going to ask you any of that because…I sat outside of this room for an hour trying to come up with what to say to you and how to react to you, until I realized that nothing I could say would matter to me anyway. I would be asking questions that begged for answers I don't really care about. I would be having _yet_ another conversation about something that doesn't matter to me anymore. And I'm sorry if it makes you mad that I have no questions, but this political accomplishment – it's all you."

Mellie was sitting up straight now, her eyes blazing, "How dare you. How dare you make it seem like you're some unsuspecting victim caught at an adulterous pity party. I know exactly where you were this morning Fitz, so _don't_ you try to make me out to be the wrongdoer here and _don't_ make me out to be the person who stopped caring. We all know you were as good as gone the moment Cyrus hired her," she hissed, pointing her finger at him.

If there were at all the chance that Fitz would feel sympathy for her, he was knew it was gone in that moment. He stood up and pulled on his jacket before striding to the door.

"Dr. Drysdale and Secret Service will escort you back to The White House tomorrow in the morning. I'll be out early tomorrow, so don't bother waiting for me," he said, and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Outside, stood Tom flanked by two other Secret Service agents.

"You're ready to leave, Mr. President?" Tom asked.

Fitz looked at the closed door of Mellie's room, "Just me give a minute Tom."

"Of course, sir."

Fitz walked over to the farthest chair in the hospital lobby room and pulled out his cell phone – 11:34pm. _She's not asleep yet_, he thought to himself and speed-dialed "1". He put the phone to his ear, fearing the dial tone might go on forever. And then he heard her,

"Hi," Olivia whispered.

Fitz let out a deep breath, relieved, "Hi, I was afraid you wouldn't answer."

**So Isaac isn't Fitz's son. Who was surprised that Fitz suspected the whole time? Who felt a little badly for Mellie here? Some people didn't like that there was even the possibility that she and Fitz could have a child together since he loves Olivia. But putting "Olitz" aside, he **_**is**_** still the POTUS with a wife and unfortunately (as they both know), this requires certain duties and keeping up a certain image, regardless of what may happen behind closed doors. I might also add that the Olivia/Mellie idea of them having a child together from the show is still true in this story. I think that Fitz being president, even not concerning Mellie and Isaac, is a HUGE obstacle for his relationship with Olivia. I can't imagine loving someone as much as these two love each other only to always remember that our relationship could destroy both of us – and that exact trepidation in spite of all their love is something I really want to convey. But with all that said, I mostly just want all of this to spell good things for the two of them and I don't believe that they will ever truly give up on each other. And I'm so glad Olivia finally let Mellie have it! Whatever becomes of Mellie, I hope she doesn't continue to stand in Olivia and Fitz's way. As always, please keep reading and reviewing! I love hearing your reactions to the story and I love writing it. THANK YOU! **


	10. Every Picture Tells a Story

Outside the door to Pope & Associates, Olivia stood with a mirror to her face, wiping away the remnants of smudged mascara. She had driven in a cab around Georgetown after she left The White House, hoping to clear her mind before returning to work. Olivia pushed flyaway curls out of her face and then satisfied, she opened the door and walked in to see Huck alone, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Abby's still with the governor?" she asked, dropping her purse onto the conference table.

"And Quinn and Harrison are on their way back from the lab," Huck responded knowingly.

"Good. On my way back, I tried to speak to the concierge at the Four Seasons and they referred me to their security department."

"I can handle that," Huck said.

"Perfect."

"Oh, and all this stuff came in the mail," Huck pointed to a pile of multi-colored envelopes lying next to his computer.

"We have phones that can set alarms to our houses, so you'd think snail mail would be obsolete by now," Olivia said absentmindedly.

She sifted through the pile stopped at an orange postage envelope, thick with bubble wrap on the inside. Olivia tore at the sealed opening with the cap of a pen, and shook out what was inside – a black flash disk, with a printed label on it that read, "D., OHIO."

"Huck, when did you pick up the mail?" she asked quickly.

"A little after you left. 10:40."

"Did you see this? There's a flash disk in labeled 'D. Ohio' and the package has no return address. Here," she handed the disk to Huck. "Stick in your computer, let me see what's on it."

Huck took the flash disk and looked it over, "Centon DataStick Sport 128GB USB 2.0, about sixty bucks at any WalMart."

Olivia laughed, "Go ahead, what's on it?"

Huck stuck in the flash disk into his computer's USB port and waited until its icon popped up on his desktop. He double-clicked.

"It's full of jpg image files."

"Slideshow them, let me see."

Huck clicked onto the slideshow button to the right of the file window and after the screen goes temporarily black, an image pops up – Olivia and Fitz standing in the Rose Garden – the image quickly dissolved and was just as quickly, replaced – Olivia and Fitz dancing at the state dinner, his hands on the small of her back – dissolved and replaced – Olivia and Fitz boarding the Fitzgerald Grant campaign bus – Fitz leaving Olivia's house before his meeting with the press corps – Olivia and Fitz, Olivia and Fitz. After what felt like one long horrifying hour, Olivia tore her eyes away from the screen and turned her back on the computer.

"Turn it _off_, Huck. Turn it off now."

"Olivia –,"

"Turn it off!" She screamed.

She heard the sound of Huck's entire computer shut down, and the ejection of the flash disk from its USB port and stood still, afraid to move. She could feel that Huck wasn't looking at her, but still, a tsunami of a wave of embarrassment and hurt swept over her – drenching her in guilt and fear. Who did that? Who sent those pictures and what else did they have? Were there copies of the flash disk? Who knew about her and Fitz and for how long? The fact that her – _their_ – secret could be out made her stomach swim with nausea and involuntarily, Olivia held her stomach. Terrible thoughts swarmed her mind, as she stood motionless, feeling for the first time, quite afraid and alone.

x X x

From the conference room, Olivia watched Huck put the flash drive back into the package, reboot his computer, and slowly make his way towards her. Unable to look at him, she stared impassively at the brown wall ahead of her. A fissure in the secret that was her relationship with Fitz had just formed, all because now Huck knew.

"I erased the memory of the disk from my computer, and I configured it unrecognizable from now on, for any other operating system," Huck said quietly and placed the package on the table in front of her.

Olivia didn't answer and remained how she was.

"It's like a new disk now…never been touched, never been used here. My computer never saw anything," Huck continued, "and I didn't see anything if that's what you want," he added cautiously.

Still, Olivia remained motionless. She inhaled deeply, not bothering to even attempt to look at him. Here she was, Olivia Pope, having her deepest and darkest secret outed like a teenage girl's nude picture message, blazing around the school due to some unfortunate lack of judgment. From the corner of her eye, she saw Huck sit down next to her.

"When you sit through AA meetings, people say the craziest stuff. They tell stories about things you wouldn't believe that people could do. And for the first thirty minutes, all you do is listen and hear what everyone has to share. The worst part about AA is that you come in and you kind of have to tell all these stories. You have to talk about the things you're most ashamed of and the things you wish no one found out. But the best thing about it is that when you talk, you realize that everyone's afraid of the same thing. Everyone has these stories and these things that they've done, and then you realize that you're not by yourself and soon it's just a big group of people all afraid of the same thing – together, and then it's a little less scary. It doesn't really make any sense, but…it works."

Olivia turned to look at Huck, who was slouched in the wooden chair next to her. She met his gaze for a few moments before looking down at her hands, chipping away at the nail polish on her index finger.

"What do you do when you know that what you're doing could ruin you and someone else, _completely_?" She asked quietly.

"Well," Huck started, "a lot of the time we start off with peer feedback…."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

Olivia looked up at him again and managed a smile, "Thank you."

He nodded, and for a few minutes, the two of them just sat together in silence, staring at the brown wall in front of them. Then Huck cleared his throat, "Olivia, I don't mean to…if you don't want to talk about it or…but who do you think sent you that?"

"I'm thinking. They're connected obviously, Defiance and…" she trailed off. "But I'm still thinking."

Suddenly, Olivia stood up and checked her watch – 12:55pm. She grabbed her purse and poured herself a cup of coffee into a thermos, then turned to face Huck.

"Huck, you're coming with me."

x X x

"Four hundred dollars cash, nothing more, nothing less. This is a bar in Adams Morgan, not the mezzanine of The Pentagon," Olivia said sharply, pressing four one hundred dollar bills into the hand of a middle-aged balding man in dark jeans and an old Tulane t-shirt. He took the cash, counted it, and looked over at Huck, who was standing guard by the door. Half an hour later, Olivia and Huck were in the upstairs security room of The Reef bar in Adams Morgan. As it was late in the afternoon, the bar was fairly empty, which left Dan Gibson, the somewhat suspicious security guard on camera watch, with nothing better to do than oblige the two of them.

"So like I said," Olivia continued pleasantly, "we're looking at the Tuesday night, May 15 tapes from inside the bar, for the cameras facing towards both the bartender and customers. We're going to skip ahead to around 8:30pm, and then you're going to wait outside."

Dan pulled out a DVD labeled in messy handwriting, "TUES. MAY 15, BAR VIEW" and popped it into the security computer's DVD drive.

Olivia turned to address Huck, "James said he was supposed to meet this guy at nine, so we're going to need to see who showed up before that if this guy wasn't planning on meeting him there in the first place."

"It's in night vision," Dan interrupted lamely, as green images appeared on the screen.

"Not a problem, skip to a little bit before 8:30 please."

Dan obliged, stuffing the cash into his pants pocket and patting it securely.

"There, stop," said Olivia as the time stamp in the lower right hand corner turned to 8:22:33.

Dan stopped the fast-forwarding and began to play it.

"How long are you guys going to be in there?" He asked impatiently, standing up to leave.

"We'll let you know when we're done," Olivia answered sweetly and patted him on the shoulder.

He turned around and left, and Huck dutifully locked the door behind him.

Olivia turned to him, "and now we wait."

And so the two of them sat and surveyed the security tape of the bar as the bartender mixed and served drinks and people ushered forward, ordered, handed over cards and cash over and left, some returning, some not. At timestamp 8:46:27, something to the right of the screen caught Olivia's eye.

"Pause that," she told Huck, who had taken over Dan's chair.

Huck paused the tape.

"Now go back like twenty seconds."

Huck rewound, and then replayed it again for Olivia, who was watching with a hawk-like intensity. On the right side of the screen, someone – a man – had entered into the frame, and was making his way through the ever-thickening maze of people. Olivia watched him sit down on an empty stool with only the top of his head towards the camera. Her heart was beating faster as she watched in what felt like slow motion, waiting for the man to show his face. And then, from the inside of his jacket pocket, the man pulled out a thin white envelope and leaned into to speak to the bartender.

"Olivia…" Huck muttered.

"Don't say anything," Olivia hushed under her breath; she was still.

The man patted the bartender on the shoulder and then leaned back as the bartender reached out from underneath and pulled out a shot glass, which he filled generously. The man took it enthusiastically, turned on his stool to face the crowd, and threw his head back to drink, exposing his face for the cameras, Olivia, and Huck to see – Edison.

Involuntarily, Olivia let out a gasp.

"Olivia?" Huck asked again.

"Don't. Say. Anything." Olivia repeated warningly. She felt frozen to the spot. "Zoom in, zoom in on that face right now."

Huck zoomed in, but the face was exactly the same and Olivia began to feel light-headed.

"Isn't that –," Huck began, but Olivia flashed him a warning look.

Her mind was going a mile a minute as she tried to string the pieces together. Huck watched her intently as she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Olivia pulled up the number and dialed, and almost immediately as though he had been awaiting or fearing, her call, James answered.

"Olivia? What's wrong? I haven't heard anything, he hasn't called me."

"James. You said the guy got you a free drink at The Reef? What was it?"

"What?"

"_What kind of drink did he order for you at The Reef_?" Olivia asked, trying her hardest not to sound impatient.

"Uh, a sidecar," James said. "He ordered me a sidecar. Why?"

Olivia didn't answer and quickly hung up. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and hoped that with every press of a button, she was wrong. She entered the pin number to her visual voicemail and browsed through it, stopping at "EDISON – 5/17/12 9:19AM". Then she replayed the voicemail that she had skipped two days ago:

"…_Liv, hey. I'm sorry I didn't call you last night like I said I would. I hope everything's okay. I ended up bumping into an old friend and had an impromptu sidecar down in Adams Morgan and I know that's not an excuse but I hope I can make it up to you if you'll let me. Call me, please_."

Slowly, Olivia pulled her phone away from her ear and stared into Edison's green face on the computer screen, shocked beyond belief.


	11. Dirty Deeds

Olivia barely registered that she was in a cab on her way back from Adams Morgan until the driver unsuccessfully attempted to swerve around a nasty pothole. Her mind was spinning with shock, and a slow but intense embarrassment was creeping over her. To her right, Huck was dutifully silent and for that she was grateful, because she didn't want to talk at all. All she wanted to do was think and process…Edison was the one behind leaking Defiance, Edison was the one who gave James the phone call, the check, the drink…. Edison knew about the rigged voting machines, he knew about the election, and now he knew about her and Fitz. Over and over in her mind, Olivia replayed all of her moments with Edison and she felt angry with herself for misled and tricked. This was the man to whom she was engaged, this was someone with whom she had lived, someone she loved or used to love... How could she not have seen this? Were there obvious signs that she missed? Was she blindsided by someone who was good enough to get by her? Did he use her as her own distraction? In a matter of mere hours, Olivia's biggest secrets were being threatened and it was her head this time, on the chopping block; it was her own problem that needed fixing. As the cab turned a sharp corner and came to a halting stop at a red light, Olivia decided there was only one way to handle this: Edison knew too much to allow her to orchestrate from behind the scenes. He was too informed, and too equipped to give her the upper hand, and so her only approach to was to confront him head on.

"Huck, tomorrow afternoon I need you to come with me to Georgetown. I need you to redirect texts and phone calls from a cell phone to mine for a few hours. And then I need an old address for one of the 'B-613' meeting places."

"Tomorrow?" Huck asked hesitantly, "…not today?"

"No, definitely not today."

x X x

"You want me to do what?" James asked, wringing his hands nervously.

Olivia was standing in Cyrus and James's apartment for the second time that week. The place looked the same, save for Albert, who was spending the weekend at his grandparents' house in Bethesda. Olivia looked over at Huck, who was standing by the door, and then she turned back to James, who was apprehensively looking back and forth between the two of them. She pulled out a Post-It note and handed it to James.

"I need you to call him. I need you to call him and tell him he needs to come _here_," Olivia pointed to the Post-It, on which Huck had scribbled '_6221 7__th__ St. NW_', "tonight at nine. It's an old coffeehouse called _Cobb's Café_. Tell him you have the memory cards for all of the rigged voting machines and that you'll leave them at the counter with one of the waitresses, and that he can have them all for one grand. Cash."

"I can't Olivia," James said sitting down in the couch, "I'm done with this. I'm not doing this anymore."

Olivia sat down next him, "I know, I know you want to be done with this James, but I need you to do this for me; for Cyrus. This is the only way so you need to help me."

James looked at his cell phone and then back to Olivia, "What if he doesn't want to come? What if he says he's busy or that he has everything he wants? It's Saturday, the story's supposed to run on Monday."

"Not an option," Olivia said sternly, "you have something bigger and better than whatever he's planning to push. You have one hundred percent proof that his story is legitimate, so if he somehow refuses, you need to _make_ him meet you there. If you need to tell him you'll buy him a gin and tonic, I don't care, but you do it."

"I don't even know his name, what if –,"

"James, stop. Pull it together."

Olivia took the phone out of James' trembling hands, dialed the number, initiated speaker, and then set the phone down on the coffee table. While it rang, everyone in the room waited with baited breath.

"Hello?" Edison finally answered.

Olivia's jaw hardened. Edison's voice was clear but hardly recognizable, and it sent anger coursing through her. Immediately, James looked at Olivia for support, and she nodded reassuringly.

"Hey, uh…hi. It's James. Journalist."

"James, can't say I expected to hear from you again."

"Yeah, me neither. Um…look, I have something else for you – um, more stuff."

Olivia nodded and stood up, following the conversation closely.

"What do you mean?" Edison asked, sounding slightly skeptical.

"I have the rest of the memory cards. I have all of them," James said hurriedly.

Both he and Huck looked over at Olivia, who was staring intently at the phone and waiting for Edison to bite.

There was a pause, and then Edison spoke, "Where are they?"

"They're at 6221 7th St. NW, Cobb's Café," James said confidently.

Olivia took a deep breath.

"The story is running on Monday, I don't have time to go on a wild goose chase."

"It isn't a goose chase," James said confidently, "This is one hundred percent proof that this story is legitimate. I can leave them with a waitress for you tonight."

"When?"

"Nine."

"What do you want for them all?" Edison prompted after a long pause.

"One grand."

"You didn't even cash the first check I gave you."

"One grand," James repeated.

"What's her name?" Edison asked.

"Who?"

"The waitress. What's the name of the waitress you're leaving them with?"

James looked around at Olivia before sputtering, "Linda."

Edison let out a short laugh, "Good, this sounds good. I'll pick them up at nine."

Olivia quickly gestured for James to wrap up the phone call, and so without another word to Edison, he leaned over the coffee table and pressed 'END'. Without missing a beat, Olivia reached for James's cell phone and handed it to Huck.

"Huck is forwarding any incoming phone calls and text messages from your cell to mine. It's only temporary and he'll shut it off at exactly 10pm, but I need to make sure that if he tries to contact you, I see it."

James nodded, looking slightly nauseous. Olivia watched him for a moment while she waited for Huck to finish. As badly as she felt for James, she couldn't linger around any longer – James was right, the story was running in two days and without moving quickly, she could lose absolutely everything. Huck handed James back his cell, which he took rather gingerly, and with a curt nod to them both, James shut the door behind them.

x X x

At 8:30pm, Olivia and Huck were standing inside of an empty Cobb's Café at 6221 7th Street NW. The quaint coffeehouse had closed two hours ago, but lights were still on and the smell of coffee beans still lingered. Cobb's Café was lined with soft, draping tapestries, upholstered poufs, and menu boards covered in curly, multi-colored handwriting. When Cobb's wasn't serving up cute cucumber tea sandwiches and cappuccinos, it served as one of the various, inconspicuous meeting places of the "B-613", Huck's CIA-funded and off-the-books program.

"Key," Huck said shortly, handing Olivia a silver ring with two gold keys.

"Thank you," Olivia said.

She sat down at one of the small wooden tables far away from the windows. Huck stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"If you want me to stay…I can…stay," Huck mumbled.

"No, that's okay. I need to be alone with him for this to work."

"He's Majority Leader of the Senate," Huck said quietly, as though afraid of pointing out something obvious.

"I know, but I can handle this. I'll see you outside when I'm done, okay?"

Huck nodded at the dismissal and left, leaving Olivia in the coffeehouse alone. She waited for some time, anxiously checking her watch and running over things to say. And at 8:56pm, the bell above the door – purposely left unlocked – jingled, and Edison entered. Olivia drew in a deep breath and braced herself. Edison looked around with growing suspicion on his face before his eyes fell on Olivia and then it was replaced by genuine surprise.

"8:56pm, you're on time," Olivia said quickly, refusing to let Edison speak first.

"And you're early," Edison said, managing a small smile as he walked towards her. "So I take it you're Linda then?"

Olivia didn't answer and only watched him coldly as he stopped and stood by the table. He pulled out the chair across from Olivia and sat down.

"Why?" Olivia demanded. "Why are you doing this? You are the Senate Majority Leader. Your President is Sally Langston, V.P. to President Grant."

"You've known me a long time Liv –," Edison began.

"Stop it. Don't talk to me like that," Olivia cut him off. "I didn't make you come all the way down here to talk to me like that, so answer my question and _tell me why you're doing this_."

Edison held Olivia's gaze before speaking, "President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III won the presidential election two years ago by, what the majority of American people believe, a fair and democratic election process. But, as we both know, that wasn't the case. Two years ago, a Britta Kagen – may she rest in peace – mentioned to me in passing that she had come across some voting irregularities in Ohio. Of which, I thought nothing, until I came across an interesting Washington, D.C.–based political blog called _Capitol Jill_. And I take it you know what went on from there, seeing as you were the driving force behind it all, were you not?"

"Again, why are you doing this, Edison?" Olivia repeated.

"I don't doubt that President Grant is a very smart and _genial_ man with good ideas, but that's not what I'm interested in. His decision to hold off on invading East Sudan? Even as a Democrat, I think that's a poor decision. I would love to see the country taken in a different direction, and as far as I'm concerned, your President is ill-suited for his job as I can only assume he finds himself much too…distracted. I want to see things done differently."

"That's your big 'why'? That's your reason? And so you try to undermine an entire administration?"

"And you tried to fabricate one. And then you succeeded. So tell me who's in the wrong here?"

"You are trying to tear down an entire presidency; a _legacy_. You are trying to devastate the reputations of everyone who has worked hard to put the President into the Oval, so don't sit here and tell me this is some standard Senate leader moral outrage at a breach of democracy. _This_ is personal, so tell me why."

"Super Tuesday is just a little less than two years away."

"…You want a Democratic presidential candidate nomination," Olivia said slowly.

Edison shrugged his admission.

"So then run a campaign on honesty and good ethic, good values and good ideas. Run a campaign on the strength of your ability to lead a country and put a nation in good hands."

"Like you did?"

Olivia fell silent.

"He didn't win Ohio two years ago, and he didn't win the election, but today he's the leader of our country. Does that sound right to you? The President is no more a president than you or I, Olivia. And people need to be informed," Edison continued.

"President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III is an amazing president."

"That won't mean anything to anyone coming from a biased observer. Or participant, for lack of a better word," Edison sneered.

Olivia narrowed her eyes as she looked at Edison, feeling a hatred rise in her, "Who else saw those pictures?"

"No one," Edison held up his palms innocently, "yet. But they only serve to further my point, don't they? Distracted…ill-suited…."

White-hot anger flashed through Olivia, coupled with a surprising sadness. She was not in love with Edison and had not been for some time, but the cut of his blasé reaction to her involvement with Fitz and Defiance still stung her. It was as though she was only minor collateral damage in his efforts to achieve, and he hadn't even really cared for at all. Olivia shook her head in disbelief; hardly comprehending the person she thought she knew.

"You are risking _me_, _my job_. I let you sleep at my apartment, I was _engaged_ to you, and I used to be in love you. Does none of that matter to you? Am I only some pawn in your attempt to stage a modern coup?"

"Olivia," Edison said softly, "you were my fiancée. Don't demean us by thinking that our relationship was merely instrumental."

"You are working against the very person I help put in office, and so you're working against _me_, which is _not_ a smart thing to do."

"I didn't want you to be involved with this either Olivia, and those pictures may not even see the light of day."

"What's your endgame?"

"Excuse me?" Edison asked, sounding amused.

Olivia folded her arms across her chest, "It's a question I ask every client, what do you want?" Olivia yelled, banging her hand on the table. "You have a price? Name a price. What do you want, Edison?"

Edison laughed, "I'm not a client Olivia. I'm Senate Majority Leader, and I make my own laws so I don't need to play by your rules. And I already told you what I want, so unless you're going to ride campaign buses with me, I'm not sure that you can offer me anything."

"You're not getting that."

"Well…then I guess there's nothing left to discuss. I loved you Olivia, I did…and at least I can say I tried twice. But I'm sorry, as soon as I bring the write-up to the Post Monday morning, the story _will_ run on Monday as expected."

Edison made to stand up, but Olivia grabbed his hand and held him to the table, "You have _no idea_ what you're getting into, but I will tell you this: I am _not_ going to let that happen, and I am not going to let you get in the way. Do yourself a favor and take heed because I've fixed enough for problems for people to know how to start them. I helped put President Grant in office, and I would spit on my grave before I let anyone take that away."

The two of them held each other's gaze for a moment before Olivia let go of his hand and walked out.


	12. No Time

It was almost midnight and Olivia and Huck were back at Pope & Associates, sitting in her office, thinking of what to do about Senator Edison Davis. Abby, Quinn, and Harrison had gone for the night, and it was just the two of them and a couple of empty Chinese food containers and soda cans. Olivia pulled her hair into a low bun and poured herself a cup of coffee; they had already spent the last hour going through every possible situation and its every possible outcome – none of them too favorable.

"He's Senate Majority Leader," Olivia repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time. "He has laws and justice and people, real people who can make things happen, on his side. He is virtually untouchable."

"Someone was able to shoot the _President_," Huck pointed out.

"Keyword _virtually_," Olivia said absentmindedly. "We need to stop thinking and start doing, we don't have the luxury of time on our side, here."

Frustrated, Olivia sat down on the couch in office and stared into the deepest of dark and comforting brown of her coffee, letting her mind wander into a place she had been careful to avoid. She wondered where Fitz was and what he was doing…she wondered if he was sitting in the Oval Office, arguing with Cyrus, or if he was lying in bed and flipping through the channels, stopping at his favorite show – _Cupcake Wars_. Olivia laughed to herself and then immediately felt cold as an unwanted reminder of their last encounter entered her mind…. He had shouted at her, refused to let her explain, and he had ordered her to leave like someone who was hired for a job but was no longer useful to him. And when she turned to leave, hurt and confused, he hadn't even run after her or called her back. She was still angry with him and didn't care if he was still angry with her too. But even though the ache of last seeing him was still smarting, she let herself wonder about him. Fitz still didn't know about Defiance, and as Cyrus had said, the protocol was always that he shouldn't know. Olivia didn't dare imagine his face if the story ran because she didn't do everything in and above her power to prevent it from happening. He would be shaken, destroyed, and humiliated. Fitz was always completely unaware that his presidency was won with a dirty fight, and looking at the empty Chinese food containers, Olivia remembered a night when he had been happy about his stepping stone victory in South Carolina two years ago…

x X x

She was sitting in a conference room in a Florida hotel a little after 10pm, and Fitz was sitting in the chair right next to her, his tie loosened and his shirt rumpled in the back. Olivia too, was relaxed – she had let her hair down out of a neat bun, and was sitting cross-legged in the cushioned rolling office chairs the hotel provided. Spread out on the conference table before them was a half-eaten container of pork-fried rice and orange chicken, a couple of fortune cookies that had been cracked open and had their unsatisfactory messages thrown to the side, and papers and papers of poll tracking and popularity ratings. Super Tuesday was a little under a month away, and the Republican Presidential Debate against Sally Langston had just taken place two nights ago. Although along with the rest of the campaign crew, Olivia was exhausted after a seven-hour drive from South Carolina to Florida, she had insisted that more work needed to be done to prepare for the campaign rally in Tallahassee.

"I feel good, it's been a good week," Fitz smiled lazily, staring up into the ceiling.

"It has been a _great_ week. South Carolina was amazing, and your college tuition mention was _key_," Olivia conceded.

"It was pretty good wasn't it?"

"Mhm," Olivia murmured, her eyes lingering on his Adam's apple.

He looked back at Olivia, his face serious, "Cyrus says we might have a problem when it comes to Ohio."

"I appreciate Cyrus's forward-thinking, but you're going to win that," Olivia said confidently.

"What makes you so sure?" Fitz asked with a smirk.

"Because, I'm me and I'm going to make it happen."

Fitz's face broke into smile and he reached out and rubbed his thumb across her hand. A thousand tiny electrical currents sprung to life and ran up Olivia's arm and down her spine, sending her heart into overdrive. The room felt too hot and she was suddenly acutely aware of Fitz's eyes on her lips. She quickly pulled her hand out from underneath his, and nervously pushed a hair behind her ear.

"Have you thought of what you want to say to Sally's camp once they open up questions regarding your ambiguity on the topic of East Sudan?" she asked.

Fitz watched on her for a moment, before he spoke, "No, I haven't."

"Well, you need to. We need to develop a stronger message and start putting it out there. There are ways to look sure and definite without making promises and then finding yourself backed into a corner. Word choice is key here. Start replacing your 'I plan's and 'I'm going to's with 'I'm looking forward to'. You're not looking to package and sell a decision; you're just trying to carve out a distinguishable path. Sally is strong and she has a lot of clear, well-defined ideas and opinions and that's where she's trying to point out your weakness. And if you don't start working on appearing more concrete, it's going to keep working."

Fitz stared at Olivia.

"But your image on family values is still great. You and Mellie have been doing a really good job, and your honest address concerning your marriage and your love for her at the debate last night was…also key," she continued, ignoring his gaze.

Fitz let out a dry laugh, "I was so prepared for that question I practically asked it myself. And everyone knew that criticism about your marriage topic was coming."

"But you handled it and that's all that needed to be done. All that's really left to do now is pick up a few babies."

"I guess…" Fitz trailed off.

He never broke eye contact with Olivia, who looked down to avoid his eyes completely and shuffled with the papers, looking for something else to say. In actuality, all was pretty much done with their conversation but she couldn't bring herself to leave.

"So when you leave here, what do you do for fun?" Fitz asked, interrupting Olivia's determined effort to distract herself.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean when you're not busy changing my ties, and putting pretty bows on my marriage, which is greatly appreciated of course, what do you do for fun? What do you do to...unwind?"

Whether it was the sudden lowness in his voice, or the fact that he had leaned in closer to her, Olivia was starting to sense a shift in the conversation.

"I don't know, I don't really do much," she said, pointlessly arranging pens into a neat line.

"Oh come on, you must do something. Like me, for example. I like the outdoors; I'm an outside kind of guy. I mean what happens if one day you find yourself woefully overworked because I didn't switch my 'I'm going to' with an 'I look forward to' and you need calming down and no one in the world knows how to calm you down?"

Olivia laughed, "I don't know. I guess I just…I watch movies sometimes. I like movies."

"Oh, what kind of movies? Westerns? Romance?"

Fitz's eyes were locked onto Olivia's, but she had looked away so many times that now she felt as though she had used up all her believable opportunities to look busy and unfazed. He was even closer to her too, now. She held his gaze almost defiantly, and sat up straighter.

"Horror," she answered.

Fitz cocked his head to the side in amusement, "Really? You like watching things that scare you?"

"Yes really."

"So you're admitting it then?"

"Admitting what?" Olivia asked, bemused.

"That there are things that scare you."

Olivia opened and then closed her mouth, feeling as though she had been tricked into walking into some strange part of the conversation. She could tell from Fitz's eyes that he was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"I never said that."

"But, I mean, there has to be something that scares you right, at least a little bit? You can't be as unflappable as you look. So what scares you? You can tell me. Is it a really horrible and distracting tie? I bet that's it."

He was so close now that Olivia could see every eyelash, and every nuance of color in his blue eyes.

"No. Normal things like natural disasters and terrorism and stuff like that," she said, a little too quickly.

"That's it? Nothing else?"

She nervously pushed a lock of hair behind her ears again as flashes of their moment in the elevator two nights before ran through her mind. Then, she could only just see the telltale signs of smoke, but now, a quick and ever-intensifying heat was growing between them daring to erupt into flames, and neither of them was making any attempt to put it out. Even in the silence of the room, their desire for one another was loud and pounding against Olivia's eardrums, and she could almost hear Fitz's heart beating in sync with her own – eager and hungry…

"Nothing else," Olivia whispered, so focused that she hardly felt the words leave her lips.

From the corner of her eye, she saw his arm reach out and pulled the lock of hair back out from behind her ear. And as his fingers grazed against her cheek, it was almost unbearable – the overwhelming desire to push herself toward him hooked her from somewhere behind her navel. She was no longer trying to fight it; she was just waiting until they reached each other. He was close, so very close…. Suddenly, there was a knock on the conference room door and Olivia and Fitz sprung apart just as the door swung open and Cyrus stepped in, looking slightly annoyed.

"There you are," he said, striding over towards them after closing the door. "I was looking everywhere for you two. Polls are _in_," he said gleefully, throwing down a sheet of paper onto the table, "you _rocked_ South Carolina, and I don't ever use that term so that should tell you how big this is. Let us all have a respectful, but not too generous, moment of silence for what was Sally Langston's candidacy."

Fitz held onto Olivia's gaze for a second longer before turning his attention, "Now this, is amazing."

"Isn't it?" Cyrus said, helping himself to the orange chicken.

Olivia nodded and smiled, feeling flushed. _There are cameras, what were you _thinking_?_ She thought to herself as she watched Fitz and Cyrus talk without really listening. Unable to handle it any longer, Olivia gathered up her things and head towards to the door.

"You're leaving?" Fitz asked, sitting up.

"Yeah, it's getting late and I have to start preparing the tools we're going to use before we head onto the campaign bus tomorrow, so I'm going to head up."

"If you see Sally on your way up there, tell her she's invited for drinks," Cyrus called, laughing.

"Goodnight," Fitz said, as Olivia waited at the door.

"Goodnight."

x X x

"I could look for something in his financials?" Huck offered, bringing Olivia back to the gloomy present.

"No, that's not going to work, we don't have the time and it doesn't even matter. He's asking for the one thing I can't give him and he knows that. He knows I won't budge on that. He practically watched me build that campaign from the day I got on it."

"No bitter ex-wives or girlfriends?"

Olivia looked down at her cold coffee. As much as Huck knew who Edison Davis was in the world, he was unaware that he and Olivia had been dating. Huck, along with the rest of Pope & Associates, came along after Olivia's four-year relationship and brief engagement to Edison. The very thought of those years and the pictures flashing across Huck's computer screen sent shivers down her spine. Olivia stood up again and started pacing.

"I need to give him what he wants, without really giving it to him. There has to be a compromise, there is _always_ a compromise. If he's been holding out this long, that means he's been waiting for an opportunity, so he's not averse to finding an even better one than the one he has now," Olivia said, mostly to herself. "I just need to know what the opportunity is. It has to be something good, or someone good."

In front of the microwave, Olivia came to a halt – she knew exactly who she needed to see now.


	13. One Way Out

Olivia could not afford to lose another minute to idleness, so early the next morning she found herself at The White House in West Sitting Hall, waiting for her appointment. Much of the staff was bustling about, but other than that, the building was fairly quiet. Olivia anxiously checked her watch for the third time in less than a minute. She had less than 24 hours to stop Edison from bringing down the President; less than 24 hours to watch everything crumble under his feet and right before her eyes. She hadn't spoken to Edison since the night before, but she didn't dare doubt that he would keep his word. Olivia tapped the feet of her heels subconsciously and looked around for the arrival of the other party. She looked at her watch once again, and upon glancing up, she saw him – walking down Center Hall towards her, coming from what could have been his bedroom, or the Oval Office – Fitz. Olivia had come to The White House with a single purpose, and though her bitterness towards Fitz had hardly begun to ebb, a large part of her had been half-hoping that she would run into him. And there he was – in his gray Navy sweater, looking stressed but comfortably handsome. Olivia felt like running towards him, but she quickly reprimanded herself. As the distance between them closed, Fitz noticed her and his face quickly registered his astonishment.

"Livvy?" He called out, happy surprise clear in his voice. "I – what are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

He stopped in front of her, looking concerned.

"Everything is fine, Mr. President. I'm waiting for an appointment."

And just as she had intended, a surprised and wounded look shadowed Fitz's face at the way she addressed him. His eyes searched her face, which she kept expressionless and indifferent. She knew he was looking for signs of softness in her that would hint at any minor forgiveness for his behavior the last time they'd seen each other, but Olivia wasn't here to make amends and curl into his arms. So, she reminded herself that she was angry with him, ignored the familiar feeling she got when she was the spotlight of his intense gaze, and doggedly pursued her steely demeanor.

"Oh," Fitz finally said quietly. "An appointment? Cyrus isn't here, it's Sunday."

And as if to answer Fitz's unanswered question about with whom it was Olivia could possibly be meeting, a voice called out from behind him.

"Olivia," Mellie trilled.

Mellie strode forward, looking wonderful post-baby in a white sundress and a light blue cardigan. Fitz looked at Olivia, who kept her eyes on Mellie. Mellie smiled serenely, and whether or not she picked up on the iciness in the West Sitting Hall, she didn't let on. She kissed Olivia's cheek cordially.

"Bright and early like we'd planned. Don't mind us Fitz," Mellie threw her words at Fitz casually over her shoulder, "Should we make our way to the private sitting room then?"

Olivia nodded and without looking at Fitz, she followed Mellie into the private study.

Mellie closed the door behind her and sat down in a wooden chair. Her smile had vanished and she was surveying Olivia, who had taken the seat directly across from her.

"He hasn't been sleeping, so I take it you two are on the outs about something," Mellie noted, carefully scrutinizing Olivia for a reaction.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but that's really not why I came to speak to you."

"So you're not going to ask him to join us?" Mellie asked.

"No, I need to speak to you alone."

"Oh."

Olivia took a deep breath, "We have a serious problem that needs to be remedied within the next few hours, otherwise I can assure you that President Grant will be taken out of the Oval."

Mellie arched an eyebrow, "What are you saying Olivia? What problem?"

"Senator of the Intelligence Committee and Senate Majority Leader Edison Davis is running a story on Defiance tomorrow in _The Washington Post_. He was behind _Capitol Jill_, and now he's throwing the story out to the media."

"He knows?" Mellie asked in alarm, all faux concern for Olivia and Fitz's relationship dropped.

"Yes. His story, his research, and his write-up are legitimate and he's giving the word to run it tomorrow. He wants a Democratic presidential candidacy nomination next Super Tuesday."

"And you didn't stop him?" Mellie asked outraged.

"I tried. And I'm still doing what I can, but I –," Olivia continued, but Mellie cut her off.

"Cyrus said you were handling this! He told us you said him to leave it alone and that you were handling it and now Senator Davis is somehow in the know and is preparing to run off with a story? I don't believe this. Why haven't you stopped this? Why haven't you fixed it? And why am I just hearing about this?"

"I didn't know, Mellie. I didn't know he was behind it. I didn't realize how much he knew when I told Cyrus to leave it to me. But I need your help," Olivia said evenly.

Olivia's frustration was building and she certainly didn't need Mellie to remind her how incredibly dangerous this situation was. But she knew that she couldn't react, as she – and everyone involved – desperately needed Mellie's help.

"You have got to be damned coming to me for help. This is your _job_ Olivia, you're supposed to be fixing things and instead, there's a catastrophe affixed to a time bomb and sticks of dynamite ready to blow up right in all of our faces. Everything was working fine and everything was handled until you decided to take it into your own hands. I am_ not_ about to lose everything we have here in this house all because this was a little too much for you and your high horse to handle."

"This is not about me Mellie, and making it about me is not helping."

Mellie let out a harsh laugh and shook her head, "Everything is about you Olivia Pope, trust me."

"I _didn't know_."

"And that right there is the problem. It's nine in the morning on _Sunday_ Olivia, tomorrow is Monday. What the hell are you planning to do about this?"

"I need your help, Mellie."

Mellie sat back in her chair. She looked at Olivia, who could almost see her biting back the angry remarks she wanted to spit out. Instead, Mellie took a deep breath and placed her hands neatly in her lap.

"What do we need to do to fix this? Let me call Cyrus –," Mellie made to reach for her cell phone.

"No." Olivia said, "We can't call Cyrus."

"Then what do you expect us to do Olivia? Sit around here and gossip until high tea?"

"_Mellie_!" Olivia shouted, about to lose all patience, "Stop. I came to you because I needed _your_ help, so pull yourself together and listen to me."

Mellie looked as though she had been slapped. Olivia paused for a moment, steadied herself, and looked Mellie in the eye.

"I need you to give up your story about Isaac," she said.

"Excuse me?" Mellie's voice was suddenly razor thin and brittle.

"I need you to give Senator Davis the truth about Isaac Grant. I know it doesn't sound ideal, but I really think it will work if we –,"

"You have really got some _damn_ nerve," Mellie hissed through clenched teeth.

Olivia leaned back, surprised. "Mellie, please. I understand how it may seem but this is something that could work for us. We need something to give Senator Davis, something that will make him bite or at least reconsider. Isaac throws the _idea_ of Fitz into a negative light, making the Senator think he's getting what he wants. But it still avoids putting Fitz in the position of the wrongdoer; it makes him look distracted and grief-stricken, but it doesn't make him guilty."

When Mellie spoke next, her voice was shaking with controlled anger.

"I have been sticking my neck out since day one, Olivia. I grit my teeth, bite the bullet, and then smile pleasantly every time my husband pines after you like a sad puppy. I knew he was with you the morning of May 16 and I still let him pick me apart in my own hospital bed. And I do it because I want this presidency. You know damn well that I will fight tooth and nail to save it, but I will _not_ use my son as a bargaining chip."

Olivia knew what she was asking of Mellie and she felt racked with guilt for it, but she had to keep trying.

"If this story runs tomorrow Mellie, you might not even be standing here next week. Senator Davis has the means and the methods to get past me, but you are sitting on our only ammunition."

"He is my _son_, Olivia."

"He knows about Fitz and I!" Olivia shouted angrily, trying hard not to sound hysterical. "He has _pictures_ of us Mellie. He has proof of everything that he knows and _it will_ _ruin_ us – you, me, him. You and Fitz will fall so disgracefully and dishonorably, that your son's life and reputation will be carved out for him before he can even take his first step. The President's legacy and your own will never cease to be tarnished, and it will follow you like the ugliest reflection you have ever seen. This isn't the time to pick and choose between bad and worse, this is the time to act and act now. We need to save our asses and not waste time trying to decorate them. I am _sorry_ that I might seem insensitive and I am _sorry_ that this might throw you under the bus for a while, but it is the only available option. Your son will be able to avoid shame by his sheer innocence. Fitz can go on national television and publicly forgive you for your indiscretions and poor judgment; he can take you back and put you back in good graces with the American people, but he _cannot_ win back a presidency or this nation."

Olivia's voice echoed throughout the private study and fell on silence. Mellie's cheeks were flushed pink, and her eyes were watery and red-rimmed. The atmosphere of the room had changed dramatically from antagonistic to desperate, and the two women sat facing each other, exhausted and – though neither would admit it – fearful. Olivia knew that coming to Mellie would generate a less than positive reception, but with the hours ticking away, she refused to come up short without a plan. She looked at Mellie, who was wiping her eyes and breathing steady, even breaths.

"We're going to need to brief him on it – on everything. Everyone will be asking him questions, and I can't send him out there unprepared," Mellie said suddenly, her voice quiet.

Olivia sat up quickly, "Of course not. I can help you put together a list of prepared answers for questions, and then we can brief Verna, Hollis, and Cyrus."

"No," Mellie said abruptly. "I need to speak with him on my own first. Just let me have a few hours with my husband and then you can come back to The White House."

Relieved beyond words, Olivia nodded her acquiescence.

"Of course, absolutely."

Olivia stood up quickly and straightened out her jacket. Mellie remained seated, her head bowed. She allowed Mellie a few seconds of silence before she cleared her throat.

"I'm coming back in only of a couple of hours, so please keep it short. We only have so little time before I present this to Senator Davis," Olivia said.

"I know, I understand."

Olivia slowly backed out of the room and gingerly closed the door. She turned around and started towards Center Hall when she heard him call out her name.

"Liv."

Olivia stopped without thinking, and turned to face him. Fitz was leaning against a thick white column. He walked towards her, keeping his eyes on her own.

"What happened? Are you okay? Did she say something to you?" He asked, reaching out an arm.

Olivia stepped back, "Everything is fine."

Fitz let his arm drop to his side, "You're still mad at me. I know I was abrupt, and I'm sorry I –,"

"Stop," Olivia interjected. "I didn't come here for this. I didn't come here to hear you apologize. I said everything was fine, but right now I need to go."

Slowly, she backed away from Fitz. Her frustration with Fitz was clouded by the apprehension and sadness from knowing that only in a few minute's time, he would find out everything. Right now, she didn't have time for his apology; she didn't have time to listen to him make her feel comfortable and safe, and loved. Right now, all she needed to do was save him and not be distracted by him; so she left him standing in Center Hall this time hoping that he wouldn't call after her.

**So Olivia and Mellie are working together again! I really do love when the two of them team up together because they're both so smart and even with everything that's happened between them – they still want the same thing (maybe for different reasons). Fitz was definitely sad and regretting what happened the last time he saw Olivia, so hopefully he finds a way to make things right with her because it makes me sad to see them miss each other even in the aftermath of an argument. But she needs to stay focused and figure out a way to get Edison off their backs. I'm having so much fun writing this story and to all who have been reading and enjoying the story - THANK YOU A BUNCH. It's great to hear what you guys think, so don't hesitate to review, review, REVIEW! **


	14. Before You Accuse Me

Fitz stood in the middle of his bedroom and pulled off his sweatshirt. The morning wasn't even over yet, and he was already exhausted. As he folded his sweater neatly, he thought of Olivia. She had called him 'Mr. President' – most likely on purpose, knowing Olivia – so despite her cool exterior earlier, she was still upset with him. His own anger, on the other hand, had long abated, and all he wanted now was to hold her and explain to her that he was sorry. The door to the bedroom opened, and Mellie walked in. Fitz pulled off his t-shirt – Mellie disappeared from view behind the white cotton, and then reappeared.

"Whatever it is," Fitz said wearily, throwing his shirt into the hamper nearby, "can it wait until after I take a shower?"

"You have your meeting with Congress liaison, Patrick Collins at one."

"It's not even eleven yet, and I'm very aware, but thank you," Fitz groaned.

"The press is going to want statements regarding the supplemental spending measure."

"Well the press is going to have wait just like they always do. Are you done playing President now?"

Mellie walked towards Fitz and pulled her blue cardigan closed. Now that she was closer to him, he could see that her nose and eyes were red – a clear indication that she had been crying. He watched her carefully, feeling worried; Mellie was never the one to cry.

"You know," Mellie began, "for a while I thought that perhaps this was just some normal Olivia-induced funk. I assumed that you two had had one of your normal disagreements that occur, I suppose as they normally would in extra-marital affairs, and that eventually you two would find your way back to paradise, and it would be all smiles and well-rested nights. But now I'm thinking that isn't even it at all."

"What are you even saying Mellie? Get on with it," Fitz moaned.

"I'm saying that no, this can't be your usual post-argument state, it has to be something more. And instead of feeling frustrated at you with your pathetic moping, now I'm just disappointed in you Fitz. I'm expecting you to take your presidency more seriously, and now I'm feeling like you're not even in it anymore. I need you to still be on your game Fitz, because if I didn't know better – and I hope I still do – I would have said that a month ago, you were upset that you were well enough to return to office. But I'm telling you now to get it together because I can't be the only one trying to keep you in it for another term."

Fitz's mouth fell open.

"The next time you plan to run for President, let me know. Otherwise, don't tell me how to do my job, and don't offend the American people who trust me by questioning my seriousness," Fitz said angrily. "I mean where do you get off telling me you're _disappointed_ in me? The last time I checked, you weren't hired for an opinion."

Fitz grabbed a towel and headed towards the bathroom.

"I came in here to speak with you," Mellie said quickly.

"I've been up since dawn, and –,"

"_I need to speak to you_. There's something you need to know."

x X x

Briskly, Olivia stepped out of the elevator and opened up the door to Pope & Associates. Abby, Quinn, and Harrison were sitting around the conference table watching the news on television. Styrofoam coffee cups and mugs sat before all three of them.

"Good morning. Huck isn't here yet?" Olivia asked, setting down her purse.

After finally getting Mellie to agree to giving Edison the story in hopes that he would take the offer, Olivia needed to get in touch with Huck. With Monday morning hovering on the horizon, she wasn't taking any chances and banking on the hope that her presence alone would convince Edison to take the bait.

"He went to get us bagels," Quinn said. "And Governor Warren, father of Georgetown hotel girl Elizabeth Margaret Warren, was hiring prostitutes."

"What?" Olivia was mildly surprised.

"He has multiple hotel visits to a Virginia Hyatt booked under a pseudonym that go back to August – _two years_ _ago_."

"No wonder she's afraid to talk to us."

"You think his daughter knew about his _prostitutes_?" Quinn asked, clearly disgusted.

"You would be surprised at how much everyone in Washington knows," Olivia said knowingly. "Talk to Elizabeth about them, let her know you know. Don't skirt around the issue and give her room to squirm out of it. Governor Warren can't expect us to help her if he's not going to be completely honest."

Olivia pulled her cell phone out of her jacket breast pocket – 11:02am. She dialed Huck's cell phone, but it rang until it hit voicemail. Olivia walked into her office and pulled out the Elizabeth Warren background information Harrison had given her, and picked through it distractedly. Her mind was on The White House, and Mellie, and Fitz. She wondered whether or not Mellie had come clean to him already, and what his reaction was if she did. Was he angry? Hurt? Did he yell? Olivia looked at her cell phone – would he call her to confirm? Or would he be too angry with her again to bother calling? In the middle of her thoughts, Olivia heard an audible gasp from the conference room and then Abby's voice rung out, high-pitched "Oh no!"

Olivia hurried back into the conference room and looked around – astonishment was painted on everyone's faces, and all eyes were glued to the television, where a news anchor was speaking in the newsroom studio. Underneath him rolled the foreboding red marquee – 'BREAKING NEWS':

"…_Medical team that arrived to the scene did confirm that Senator of Intelligence Committee and Senate Majority Leader Edison Davis was found without any distinguishable pulse upon their arrival. And again, just seconds ago, we were told that Senator Davis was found sometime mid-morning at Seneca Creek State Park near his Darnestown, Maryland home, and that he was pronounced dead by hospital officials at Montgomery General Hospital. Cause of death has yet to be reported, but unconfirmed reports have suggested his injuries were consistent with a tragic fall in the woodsy area. Details surrounding the circumstances of this tragedy are quiet. We're not getting a lot of information here, but they are asking that public speculation and media intrusion be kept to the absolute barest minimum so as to protect and respect the privacy of the Davis family at this time."_

"Oh wow," Abby said slowly, breaking the silence. "This is too sad. Senate Majority Leader? Does he have kids?"

"I don't think so…" Quinn mused.

Their conversation became muffled and unimportant noise to Olivia, who watched the television screen cloud in front of her eyes as she registered what was happening. Mere hours before Defiance threatened to become public knowledge, the man behind it suddenly dies from what must be a tragic fall? Mere hours before Olivia, and everyone else involved, had everything ripped from their bare hands? It was much too easy. Olivia took a deep breathe and held onto the back of a chair to steady herself. _No, no, this isn't happening. This can't be happening_, she thought frantically. The simplicity and convenience of it all was beginning to frighten her, and she looked at the time again – 11:17am. She looked at the door to Pope & Associates, but Huck hadn't yet returned from the bagel shop that was only right around the corner. Olivia quickly walked back into her office, closed the door behind her, and called Huck again. She listened to it ring and then for the second time, it went to voicemail. Quickly she tried again and still – no response. "Dammit, Huck! Where are you? Answer me!" She yelled.

She tried again and again and both times, she got nothing. Hot, scared tears sprang to Olivia's eyes, and she blinked them back and pressed 'SEND' for the fourth time. "_Please, please_ don't do this, Huck," she whispered to herself. The automated voicemail sounded again and Olivia closed her phone and sank into her couch, holding her face in her knees. Fear and guilt raked against her insides. She brought Huck into this, and with her urgency she pushed had him there and now there was a chance she wouldn't be able to save him again. Olivia took a deep breath and opened up her phone again to call The First Lady. She needed to cover her bases. Mellie answered on the first ring.

"Olivia. I heard," Mellie said as soon as she picked up. "What does this mean? It is an awful tragedy, but what does it mean for us now?"

Olivia cleared her throat, "It means that you do not, under any circumstances, breath word of what we talked about to Verna or Hollis. And let me deal with Cyrus."

"Okay, okay," Mellie sounded apprehensive.

Olivia stood up and shifted the phone to her other ear, "What did he say when you told him?" she asked.

Mellie was silent for a moment before speaking, "Olivia, I understand that you're concerned, but –,"

But Olivia wasn't listening anymore. She had just peered through the blinds in her office, and saw him standing there standing in the conference room with a large brown paper bag, which Abby was rifling through gleefully. Immediately, Olivia hung up the phone and opened up her office door. Huck looked over at her, and without a single word being exchanged between the two of them, he walked inside of her office. As soon as he stepped in, Olivia shut and locked the door. He looked the same as he always did – solemn and pensive – but knowing Huck, that meant nothing. Nothing was said in that office for a few moments, and when Olivia spoke next, her words were carefully chosen:

"Don't say a word. Don't speak, don't even blink. I am telling you right now don't say a word."

Huck opened his mouth to say something, but Olivia stopped him.

"I mean it, Huck! Don't put me in a place where I can't defend you, don't say anything I'm not allowed –,"

"It wasn't me," Huck said.

Olivia blinked.

"'It wasn't me' is the answer to whatever question it is that you can't ask," Huck continued, "and if there was someone who could answer that question, I might know who they are. But if there were someone who deleted every evidence of any pictures, or of voting machines; if there were someone somewhere out there who did out that, then _that someone _might be me."

Olivia watched him closely for a moment. Relief surged through her – she understood what Huck was saying, but she didn't dare question him further. Amidst the silence and reprieve, Edison's death was not lost on Olivia. In the past couple of days, Edison Davis had proven to be nothing like the person she thought she knew – he had blackmailed her and threatened to destroy the person she loved. And so whether it was sadness that she felt, or emptiness, or guilt at the relief he brought in his passing, Olivia was not sure. But what mattered most in that moment was that whomever it was that did this, whoever Huck had gotten to do the job was probably far away from Washington, D.C. by now. Huck was far from trouble, and Olivia would not forgive herself if he had been. She sat down in the couch again. The past couple of days had thrown her from left to right and in this moment, she felt as though she could finally breathe again. The story of Defiance was gone – it no longer existed and as far as Huck was concerned, it never did. And Fitz, who knew everything by now, was saved from what she knew would have been one of the worst moments of his presidency. She knew that they could hardly call it a day until the autopsy report came in and was free of foul play suspicions, but for the moment, things were better.


	15. With a Little Help From My Friends

Before Olivia knew it, Tuesday evening had arrived, and she was standing in her kitchen poking at a bowl of steamed vegetables. Monday had come and gone smoother than she could have ever expected the week before: the newspapers printed nothing out of the ordinary, and Olivia had used the entire day to cover and disguise leftover tracks and tie up loose ends. She had called both Supreme Court Justice Verna Thornton and Hollis Doyle to inform them that she had "handled" Defiance and that it was no longer an issue, and she had called James and delivered to him the abridged and non-incriminating version of what transpired since they had last spoken. And all day today, the news was discussing the funeral preparation plans for Edison. It was to be a private ceremony Wednesday morning, with close family, friends, and close White House staff and Senate members. Only hours ago, Olivia had decided to call Edison's family to impart her genuine sympathies. Throughout their four-year relationship and their brief engagement, she was on good terms with Edison's family, but she knew better than to assume that he had told them of their short-lived rekindling. She had not yet cried at his sudden and instrumental death, and she wasn't sure if she would at all. Olivia had certainly loved Edison at one point, and despite their recent conflict, she missed when they were amicable, and she _certainly_ wished it hadn't been him who orchestrated leaking Defiance. Olivia poured herself a glass of wine, and then she heard her cell phone vibrating noisily on the marble countertops – "CYRUS". She had spoken to Cyrus yesterday, prior to calling James, to let him know about Edison sans Huck's involvement, but she had stopped short of telling him about James. She answered.

"You would call me as soon as I open a 2009 Château Guiraud," she laughed.

"You're home early, it's only eight. Did you take a day off?"

"How long have you known me Cy? When was the last time I took a day off? I just sent everyone home early."

"What, no crises among us?"

"Apparently, not that many people decided to swindle, schmooze, and scandalize today."

"Now that, I actually find hard to believe."

Olivia took a sip of her wine before hesitantly speaking, "Cyrus…"

"James already told me," Cyrus said quickly.

"Oh," Olivia said, slightly stunned, "Cyrus, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you the details, but things got so complicated so fast and…he needed to tell you on his own. "

"You mean the details about how your boyfriend, based on information given to him by my husband, tried to completely pulverize your lover's presidency by exposing both your steamy extra-marital affair and our fraudulent hand in his victory so that he could fulfill his childhood dream of becoming president? That does sound complicated," Cyrus said, but his voice was easy and mocking.

"You're not mad?" Olivia asked skeptically.

"Oh, I was," Cyrus said heavily, "I was fuming. I left for a couple of hours actually. I had a drink…went to the Mall…walked around the Pool a couple of times…and then thought to myself – '_what am I doing here_'? I'm not a _scotch_ man. I don't like the outdoors, I don't go for walks to 'clear my head', I don't step in geese shit. I'm a whiskey man. I'm the indoors, backdoor, behind-the-scenes guy dealing with all the immoral finer details so that your pretty president remains as clean as the day he was born, and blithely unaware of the fact that mountains aren't made of marshmallows and that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is probably your father's secretary's panties. So really, who am I to be upset with James for doing his job?"

"That was big of you," Olivia said, settling into her couch.

"Yeah, so I went back. We talked it over. He's buying me that dual node percussion massager I've been asking for so he's in the clear."

"Well I'm glad that everything worked out for you guys. He wanted to tell you Cyrus, trust me, but I couldn't let him tell you then. He made a mistake…you and I combined know all about those."

"I know, I know," Cyrus said wearily, but Olivia could hear the smile in his voice. "Plus, I love him. I do. He's James, and he gets a little overzealous at times and he also color-coordinates Albert's feeding spoons but he's my husband, and I love him."

Olivia smiled, happy for her friend. Hearing Cyrus lovingly complain about James made things feel normal, as though the whirlwind of the past few days never happened at all.

"And how have you been?" Cyrus asked. "The White House atmosphere is gloomy, but it could just be the weather."

Olivia took a deep breath, "I'm good. It's…sad, but I'm doing fine. Everything worked out so, I have nothing to worry about."

"Mm, because I'm just a little confused Olivia. How is that your boyfriend suddenly dies while hiking after he threatens to completely destroy President Grant?"

"I don't know," Olivia replied honestly, "and if I did, you know better than to ask me."

"The autopsy report will tell all…" Cyrus grumbled warningly.

"And so it will."

Olivia was not worried. This morning she had verified that the autopsy, while not available to the public for another month, was so far confirming cause of death to be an accidental trip and fall.

"Hmm…typical Olivia Pope answer, I s'pose. But, I can say it was all for the better."

"Cyrus!" Olivia scolded.

"Don't tell me it's not true. Imagine where we would have been – where _he_ would have been?"

Olivia was silent for a moment. She picked at a loose thread on a throw pillow.

"How is he?" She asked quietly.

"He's himself. I saw him briefly, but he's been preparing statements and shuffling in and out of meetings all day. You saw the one yesterday afternoon I'm guessing?"

"No, actually," Olivia said quickly, "I was out, I didn't watch."

"Something of a soap opera irony isn't it? Your lover giving sorrowful statements on the death of your ex-boyfriend who tried to throw him to the wolves."

"Tactful as always, ladies and gentlemen please welcome…Cyrus Beene."

Cyrus laughed just as Olivia heard a knock on her door. She got up and walked to it; she looked through the peephole and to her surprise, she saw a serious-looking Tom and Hal standing outside. Her heart jumped.

"Cyrus? You're not having me summoned are you?" she asked.

"No?"

Olivia bid Cyrus a hasty goodbye, paused for a moment to collect herself and then opened the door.

"Tom, Hal. Good evening."

Tom and Hal nod their greeting and it was Hal who spoke first, "the President would like you to come with us, Ms. Pope."

"And where would we be going?"

"Camp David, ma'am."

Excitement did a somersault in Olivia's stomach. She hadn't spoken to Fitz since she saw him two days ago on Sunday, and even though their brief conversation was less than loving, she wanted so badly to see him. But as quickly as she had gotten eager, she began to worry. He knew about Defiance, and he hadn't spoken to her in almost two days. As if sensing her hesitation, Tom piped up,

"The President requested that we not leave here until you agree."

Olivia folded her arms across her chest, mildly amused.

"So if I said no, you would stand out here all night?"

"Yes, Ms. Pope."

Olivia sighed, fighting back a smile. She quickly walked to her room, and slipped on her shoes. She grabbed a light jacket and her purse and strode back to the door.

"Ok then, let's go."

**I just love Cyrus and Olivia (Olyrus? Bope? Peene?)! These two haven't had a good moment together since the very first two chapters, and I'm sure they've missed one another. I'm so glad James finally told Cyrus and that Cyrus understood and forgave him (how many times has he gone to extremes to keep Fitz's head on his shoulders?). And now, Olivia is off to Camp David! I sure hope Fitz has a good apology up his sleeve, and something way better than a dual node percussion massager! Until next time…review, review! **


	16. One of These Nights

The wheels of the Secret Service motorcade cruised along the woodsy terrain of Camp David before coming to a stop in front of the large and sprawling Aspen Lodge – the President's cabin. The sun was only halfway through its descent and the sky was still holding on to its last shades of blue, but the cabin's front lights were on. The engine to the motorcade shut off and Tom stepped out of the driver's seat to open Olivia's door.

"He's in the living room, Ms. Pope," Tom told her.

Olivia nodded, stepped out, and walked up the stone steps to the entrance on the Upper Terrace. She held onto the brass doorknob for a few seconds and tried to quell the nervousness that had sprung up unexpectedly somewhere between her throat and her stomach. She took a deep breath and then opened up the door. It had been a while since the last time she was at the Aspen Lodge, but everything looked exactly the same: the homey, wooden interior was comforting and warm, and the high ceilings confirmed the cabin's expansiveness. Olivia walked through the sunroom that opened up to the living room, and sitting on the couch in a pinstriped dress shirt and tie, was Fitz. As soon as he saw her that it was her who stood there, Fitz stood up. He looked relieved, as though he had been expecting to wait for her for hours.

"Livvy," he said gently.

Olivia hovered in the doorway that separated the sunroom from the living room. On the ride over, she had gone through every possible conversation, but now that he was standing there before her, holding her gaze in a way that made her forget she was even standing, she wasn't sure what she wanted to say anymore.

"You were going to let Tom and Hal stand outside my apartment door all night if I didn't say yes?" she asked.

Fitz half-smiled, "They've done it before. I had to see you. I needed to talk to you."

"What if I was busy? What if I was at work? Or did you already know that I wasn't because you're still having me followed?"

Fitz looked away, accepting her words as though he knew he deserved them.

"It's Tuesday," he admitted quietly. "You're never that busy on Tuesdays."

Olivia walked into the living room, took off her jacket, and dropped it along with her purse on an old-fashioned, wooden stool behind the couch. She folded her arms firmly across her chest.

"You said you needed to talk to me, so go ahead – talk."

Fitz cleared his throat, "I want to apologize for the way I acted on Friday. You don't have to forgive me, but will you let me apologize to you?"

"Why did you talk to me like that?" she asked.

Fitz shook his head ashamedly, "I know, I –,"

Olivia interrupted, "You yelled at me and you manipulated the situation to make it seem like I was trying to deceive you. You used your _assassination attempt_ in a weak and disgusting effort to guilt trip me. You didn't even let me speak before you ordered me out like some kind of disappointing and inconsequential staff member. And you didn't call me…you waited two days until_ I_ showed up not even looking for you before you even made an attempt to apologize."

She walked towards him from behind the couch.

"Olivia –,"

"And you had me followed. You sent people to _watch_ me like I am some sort of threat to you. I am not your Secret Service's little pet project. We are on the same level here Fitz, so don't treat me as though I am someone who can't be trusted. Don't use me as the receiving end for all your anger towards Mellie, and don't you _dare_ try to hurt me with questions you already know the answer to because you need to make me feel as badly as you do. I'm already in this with you so I _know_ how it feels."

Olivia was only an arm's length away from him now, and she was watching him carefully. For a moment, Fitz remained quiet and immobile, but the answer – guilt, shame, and sadness – was unmistakably written all over his face. When he spoke next, his voice was heavy and strained.

"Liv, I am _so_ sorry. I know what I did and I know what I said and as soon as you left, I hated myself for it. I was angry Olivia. I was angry that I was stuck with someone whom I couldn't love; someone who didn't even have the decency to give me my own child. I was angry with you because I am in love with you, and I thought you didn't wait for me to come back before you went back to him. The day Isaac was born, I was afraid. I was afraid that if I left you there, you would think it was all a mistake…just like you always do…and that you'd go back to being stubborn and telling me that this couldn't work. And then when I came back from the hospital on Friday and I saw those pictures on my desk, I almost lost it. I didn't want to believe that you had moved on from that night, and I didn't want to believe what those pictures meant, but I was angry because I knew that at the end of the day you could leave and be with him, and I would still be at The White House, wondering if you would come over if I said I found Kennedy's pin. And I'm not trying to excuse myself, but please believe me when I say I wasn't trying to make you feel bad or guilty. I never wanted to hurt you Livvy. I never wanted to pull you down or make you think that I didn't trust you, or that I ever wanted you to leave, because that's the last thing I ever want you to do. And what I asked you was unnecessary and callous, and having those pictures taken was...I shouldn't have done it; it was wrong. I wanted to call you as soon as you left but I was embarrassed that I had stooped that low and even worse, I showed you that," Fitz swallowed and took a step closer to Olivia. "I was just someone who thought they had lost the most important thing to them."

"I told you that I needed to move on and that things couldn't keep going the way they were going," Olivia said.

"I know."

"You knew that you and I together was hurting me and that I had to go; I had to try and get over you. And you just dropped by that night. I didn't plan for that to happen, and I didn't plan to keep it going."

"Stop," Fitz held up his hand, "please don't apologize. I don't want you to apologize. I just want to you to stay here and let me tell you how sorry I am."

He was standing so close to her now, but still in his eyes and in his face, he looked lonely.

"You didn't call me on Sunday, when he died," she said quietly.

Fitz averted his eyes, "I know…I don't know why I –,"

"I mean, I could have guessed that he wasn't your favorite person but you could have asked _me_ if I was okay. You could have asked how I was doing." Olivia said, trying to keep her voice even, and her eyes free of tears.

"Don't think I didn't do it on purpose Olivia, please."

"I would never paint you to be that vengeful. Besides, I'm fine anyway."

"You wouldn't have brought it up if you were, " Fitz said carefully.

"I'm _fine_," Olivia said firmly.

Fitz looked at her silently for a moment.

"You know, there's nothing in the Pope & Associates Handbook that says you have to be tough all the time," he said.

"Clearly you haven't read it front to back."

"I'm fine," Olivia repeated adamantly. "I was upset, and I still am, I am. We were together for a long time…we were going to be married, at some point so yes it hurts if that's what you want me to admit. I can't dwell on it and I can't cry over it, not with everything that has been happening, but it's not like I can't handle it."

"Don't think you can't tell me how you're feeling, Liv. He was your fiancée, and he was there for you, and he –,"

"And he knew," Olivia said abruptly. "He knew and he was going to ruin us with it."

"Ruin us with what?" Fitz asked, bemused.

"The pictures. Edison was going to use them."

"What pictures?"

Olivia studied him carefully; true confusion evident in his blue eyes that were searching her own for an answer.

"Mellie didn't tell you about the pictures of us? The ones Edison had?"

"No. Olivia, what are you talking about? What pictures?" Fitz asked, sounding nervous.

Olivia stepped backwards.

"When Mellie spoke with you on Sunday, what exactly did she say?"

"She told me I needed to start getting my team together for the campaign two years from now."

"She didn't say anything else?"

Fitz shook his head.

Olivia sucked in a sharp breath and looked up at the ceiling, feeling anger and frustration swell inside her. Fitz reached out and touched her arm hesitantly.

"Liv? What's wrong? What was she supposed to say to me?"

Olivia's knees felt weak, and her stomach felt as though it were tumbling right out of her. She sat down on the couch and pushed her hair away from her face and out of her eyes. Fitz sat down next to her, and she looked at him, feeling the notorious pangs of guilt and fear. She couldn't believe that she had to be the one to tell him. He was going to hate her, he was going to see her as someone who lied to him for two years and looked at him almost every day since then and didn't tell the truth. She watched his eyes desperately search her face and she wanted to reach out and hold him to prevent him from running away once he heard the truth.

"Please, tell me."

Olivia rested her head in her palms.

"Ok Olivia, I'm serious. Now you're scaring me," Fitz said sternly.

She felt his hand in the middle of her back, warm and reassuring. She looked up.

"You're going to hate me for this," she whispered.

"Impossible."

And so Olivia told him absolutely everything. Nothing was left unsaid: from contacting Hollis for the voting machines, to everyone waiting for the Ohio votes to come in; from finding James and meeting Edison at Cobb's Café, to her conversation with Mellie three days ago. While Olivia spoke, Fitz watched her intently; his blue eyes never leaving her face. When she told him about the blackmailed photos Edison left in the mail, she saw his jaw clench and harden, but she kept going, vowing to plow through this even if it meant he wouldn't want to speak to her again. All the rest of the while, Fitz's face was unreadable. If Olivia was looking for anger, she didn't find it – surprise, sadness, confusion… she found none of those things. Fitz's face was impassive. And when she was finally done talking, his eyes lingered on her for a moment, and then he slowly got up and walked to the kitchen. She watched his back as he walked away from her and opened up the cupboard door and pulled out a tall, unopened bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin.

"Fitz?" she said cautiously.

He didn't answer. Olivia got up from the couch and stood behind him, watching the ripple of his back muscles as he poured himself a glass, and put the bottle back. Fitz looked down into the depths of the cup, swirled its clear contents, and in a swift motion, threw it back to his head and dropped the empty glass in the kitchen sink.

"Fitz!" she shouted.

He turned to her.

"Stop. Talk to me," she demanded.

"Was I really that weak that I couldn't do it on my own?" he finally asked.

Olivia heard the scratch and burn of the liquor going down his throat.

"No," she said definitely. "You are not weak. Don't think that. You have been here for two years and you have built the legacy of a great presidency. You are strong and there are people out there who trust you and are behind you, and have your back one hundred percent. What _we_ did was wrong, but _you_ have done nothing but good since you've been in office. You know that."

"Olivia…based on what you've just told me, my presidency is a complete sham, not to mention unlawful," Fitz laughed dryly.

"You are a _great_ president."

Fitz stared at Olivia for a minute, then turned and walked out of the kitchen. He made towards the hallway off the living room, and Olivia followed. He stopped and stood before a small, square mirror on the wall, calmly pulling his tie away from his neck.

"Olivia, I am a leader who could only get to this point by using rigged voting machines to win him an election. Clearly, I couldn't do it on my own. You told me I could win, when you knew I definitely couldn't," said Fitz.

He stopped in the hallway and stood before a small, square mirror on the wall and began to undo his tie. Olivia watched him, trying to hold back tears. This was what she was afraid of: the blame, the resentment, and the smart of betrayal.

"I told you because I knew that you _deserved_ it and that the American people deserved it," Olivia said sternly.

"What they deserve is an honest and true president. Not a lie! Two years ago, I became the leader of the free world when in actuality - _no one really wanted_ _me here_," Fitz said, throwing his tie to the ground.

"You can't honestly say you believe that. You can't tell me that you were inaugurated in front of thousands and thousands of people who didn't want you there."

"People who were duped, people who were tricked into thinking that I was the majority, and that the Electoral College reflected general political sentiment," Fitz pointed out.

"_These people_ got the best candidate; the best president."

"Says who?"

"Me. I do. Cyrus does, Mellie does – everyone who cast their vote and knew they were making the right decision – they say so. I know what we did was _wrong _and _illegal_, but you're sounding like you doubted even the vote you cast for yourself, and I know that's not who you are."

"Olivia, we are standing here in the President's cabin at Camp David and technically, I shouldn't even be here. I didn't earn this, I didn't _win_ this."

Olivia stepped over the tie and stepped closer to him. She reached out and grabbed his elbow, holding him steady.

"Do you remember when you asked me if I had your vote and I told you that just like any other candidate, you had to earn it? Every step of that campaign, everyday – even in this very moment – you earned it. I watched you want this election; this victory. I watched you fight for it, I watched you work harder and harder everyday to prove yourself, I watched you talk to the American people and connect with each and every one of them. I watched you strive to make sure that the better man came out on top. I watched you be truthful and good and _faithful_ to your words and your commitments to these people. Everyday I knew how badly you wanted this, so do you really think that I could have sat there and not make it happen for you? You are the _only_ person who belongs here in this lodge and in that Oval. You are _smart_, you are genial, you are honest, you are encouraging, you are tough, you are the delegator, you are the listener, and you have outstanding dreams and goals with real plans for this country. It belongs in your hands and you have used your two years thus far to show us that that is true. You are an amazing leader, and I will not let you beat yourself up with self-doubt and feel guilty about something you didn't even do. You won this election fairly, you fought for it fairly, and you have done _great_ by your victory. Don't cast that away, don't throw it aside and feel weak and undeserving because I know what we did was wrong, but it could never cancel out what you've done. You earned my vote a long time ago Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, and trust that you still continue to earn it. There are _thousands_ of people out there who want you here. You were never supposed to know and we couldn't threaten your presidency by telling you, but I would do it all over again if I had to, to make sure the American people got what they deserved."

For a beat, Fitz was quiet. His eyes were resting on Olivia's lips. She bit them self-consciously.

"You broke the law to win me an election, Olivia."

"And like I said, I would do it all over again," she repeated resolutely.

Fitz leaned back against the wall of the hallway and closed his eyes.

"This feels like a dream," he laughed. "What do I do now? Go back to The White House and make big presidential decisions and give big presidential speeches?"

"That's _exactly_ what you do now, just as you've always been doing. You are _the_ President of the United States – that's your job."

"So they knew the whole time – Verna, Cyrus, Hollis, Mellie?"

"She told me she was going to tell you. I can't believe she didn't tell you," Olivia said angrily.

"I have a Deputy Director of Scheduling and Events that says I _can_ believe she didn't tell me," Fitz said wryly.

"Have you talked to her?" Olivia asked cautiously.

"You mean did we sit around the dinner table and make small talk? Or have I discussed with her the fact that she's currently buying books about breastfeeding a baby who isn't even mine?"

Olivia didn't say anything.

"She sleeps in the bedroom with Isaac and I take the private study for now. And no, I haven't spoken to Christopher Bissell. He's been on vacation ever since last week."

"Was it…I mean was this an isolated incident or –,"

"Or an actual relationship? You mean did they have real feelings for each other?" Fitz finished for Olivia.

The two of them looked each other the eye, the irony and the bitter hypocrisy of the situation not lost on them.

"I don't know," Fitz admitted, "and frankly, I don't really care that much. I haven't figured out what to do with him yet. Hopefully he'll just resign, and take Mellie with him."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

A pause stood between the two of them, pregnant with emotion and exhaustion.

"I didn't love him anymore," Olivia said quietly.

She watched Fitz carefully, fearful that he was masking his anger with her. But he lifted her arms from her sides and put both hands against his chest and held them there. Olivia felt the warmth of his skin underneath his shirt and her palms, and she reveled in the comfort and relief she found there.

"I know," he murmured. "And I am sorry, for everything."

"I didn't want to have to tell you about Defiance, and –,"

"No, don't explain," Fitz interjected. "I didn't send Tom and Hal over to prepare for the standoff of their lives just so you could explain."

Olivia laughed and brought her hands up to his face, and then leaned in and kissed him. She couldn't remember how long it had been since they had last been in such an embrace, but all she knew was that this is where she needed to be. Fitz kissed her back earnestly and pulled her towards him, his back on the wall and her on him. Their anger with each other, burnt out and long forgotten, had fueled a longing so intense, that every touch and lustful grip was electrifying. Olivia ran her hands up and down his shirt and ground her hips against him as she sucked on his tongue. A satisfied groan escaped Fitz's mouth, and in response, Olivia felt the wetness between her thighs. Hastily, she unbuttoned his shirt, released it from the confines of his waistband, and pulled it away from his chest and off arms before leaning in – dragging her lips away from his mouth and letting her tongue trail down his neck and chest. Against her stomach, she felt Fitz go hard underneath her, and encouraged, she reached down and held him there, teasing him.

"Liv," he moaned quietly, his eyes shut tight.

Fitz kept his hands dutifully at his sides as Olivia worked him. She let her hands drag along his restrained erection before kneeling down to kiss down his chest and stomach. His hardness rubbing against her throat now and it was the most erotic and amazing feeling to see him standing there beneath her. Suddenly, Fitz gripped her shoulders and pulled her up to him. And before Olivia knew it, he had slid out from between her and the wall, scooped her up, and carried her to the first bedroom, where he laid her at the top of the huge bed. He pulled off her pants and panties and let them drop to floor before stepping out of his own. For a moment, he stood before her and they gazed at each other, taking in everything. Then Fitz pushed her thighs apart and crouched on the bed, down on his knees. Olivia looked down and saw only the top of Fitz's head between her legs.

"Do you know how amazing you smell?" he groaned, his voice thick and aching.

Olivia was panting hard, trying not to explode with the tension and anticipation that was spreading like wildfire from the insides of her thighs to her fingertips. Fitz grabbed onto her wrists and pinned them to the bed, rendering her defenseless. And then she felt it – the warm, mind-blowing wetness as Fitz dropped his head once again and slipped his tongue deep inside of her. Immediately, Olivia buckled; she was no longer in control of herself and all that existed in the world was Fitz's tongue slowly moving around inside of her, lapping up all the hot and wet desire she had there. She moaned as his tongue circled around her clitoris, and flicked it gently before quickly pushing deep inside. It was as though she couldn't get enough – Olivia thrust her hips into Fitz's face and grabbed onto his hair, holding him down.

"Fitz…please, please," Olivia begged.

As Fitz quickened his speed, she felt herself become rigid as the throbbing and pulsating telltale waves coursed through her body. And then she came, pouring herself out to him before falling numb. Fitz sat up and leaned forward. He pressed his lips against her neck and let his teeth graze against her skin. And then against the sweet soreness, Olivia felt him plunge deep inside of her. She grabbed his shoulders and gripped hard, letting him have his way.

x X x

Olivia sat down cross-legged on the bed and pulled her hair to one side of her neck.

"Ok, I'm ready," she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

After a brief pause, she felt the lotion, cold and thick, drop onto her naked back and she let out a small squeal. She heard Fitz laugh from behind her as his spread the lotion across her shoulders and down her back, moving in wide, circular motions.

"Is it that cold?" he asked.

"Not really, just move your hands around a little bit faster. You're lingering," she answered.

Fitz's hands moved quickly, and then stopped at the back of her neck. From there, the pressure intensified and he began massaging her shoulders, bringing his hands down as far as her arms. Olivia leaned back into his chest, and took his arms and wrapped them around her. The two of them were sitting on the bed in the master bedroom of the Aspen Lodge – Olivia cross-legged before Fitz, who was leaning against the head of the bed. She looked up at him.

"Hi."

"Hi," he grinned back, and kissed her forehead.

"So what do you even expect me to wear to bed? See, had you given me advanced notice, I would have had time to pack."

"I have something for you," Fitz said, gently sliding out from underneath her.

He walked over towards the chest of drawers.

"You have a set of clothes to give the women you bring to your cabin when you fail to tell them they'll be spending the night?" Olivia asked, amused.

"No, _those_ are at the Red Oak Cabin. But since we're not there, this will have to do…"

He pulled out a large, gray 'GRANT' campaign T-shirt.

"Men's, XXL. I thought it was fitting," he said enthusiastically.

Olivia threw her head back and laughed.

"Cute" she said, "very funny. Hand it over."

She piled her hair into a loose bun at the top of her head, and then slipped on the shirt, letting the soft cotton fall over her naked body. Fitz climbed back into the bed and pulled her on top of him.

"Why Ms. Pope, don't you look very Grant campaign circa 2010," he quipped.

"Well thank you, it's definitely one of my best looks."

"Agreed. Do you know what this reminds me of?" He asked, tugging at the shoulder of the shirt.

"What?"

"That day when we were reviewing the poll numbers – a couple of weeks before Super Tuesday and I pulled you outside the room."

Olivia smiled, "You told me you were married."

"The most obvious statement throughout all of my campaign," Fitz laughed. "You wanted to kiss me, I know you did."

"Since you were the one who pulled me out there, I'd say it was the other way around."

"You think so?" Fitz pulled Olivia closer to him, "I'll give you a thirty percent chance that you might be right about that. And then Mellie came out…" Fitz trailed off.

Olivia fell silent. Avoiding the topic of The First Lady was an unspoken agreement, but it was easier said than done. She rested her head against him and the two of them lay that way for a while: his bare chest underneath her stomach, while she lay naked save for his shirt that hardly covered her thighs. Fitz ran a hand up her side, rubbing at her ribcage absentmindedly.

"Be with me," he said suddenly.

Olivia looked up.

"I'm here right now, aren't I?"

"No, I mean be with me. I want us to be together."

"We are together in this," Olivia said, slightly confused.

Fitz brought his hands up to her shoulders, and then cupped her chin in his hand. His eyes were intense and focused.

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean out there," he nodded his head towards the window, "I mean together as in just the two of us. In real life, out there with everyone."

"Fitz, what are you talking about?"

"Exactly what I'm saying."

"That can't happen, Fitz," Olivia said, after a moment's pause.

Fitz regarded her seriously, "Why not?"

Olivia looked at him closely, unsure of whether or not he was joking. She sat up on his lap, her knees locking in his thighs.

"What do you mean '_why not_'? You're married, you have kids, you are President of the United States, I was your Director of Communications, I helped get you elected in more ways than I should have…do I need to say anymore? I mean, why are we even talking about this. This is a seriously dead horse, I mean skeletons and worms dead."

Fitz shook his head impatiently, "Doesn't that sound ridiculous to you? To say we can't be together? Does that even make any sense?

"Did you sneak more gin while I was in the shower?" Olivia asked, trying to make light of the confusing situation.

The conversation had taken its usual and unpleasant turn back to reality, but Olivia wasn't sure why Fitz was leading the reigns on this one.

"No, I'm serious. Olivia, everyday, whether I see you or not, I fall more and more in love with you. We are _in love_ with each other. We're _supposed _to be with each other. That's the only thing that makes sense to me. Anything else just…"

"Fitz, what are you talking about? You know that can't happen and I don't understand why you're even bringing this up. This is how it always is. We're here alone in a moment and it's amazing and it's wonderful, but then like always, we have to go back out into the world where it's not just the two of us anymore and we're always reminded of that," Olivia said, getting frustrated now.

Fitz's eyes searched Olivia's face, "Do you love me like that? Do you want us to be together? Would you want that?"

"Of course, you know that. You know I am more than in love with you."

"So tell me why it can't happen? If you really wanted something, you'd go for it wouldn't you?"

"I know the conversation earlier was a little surprising, but you do remember that you're still the President right?"

"So?"

"It's not the same thing, Fitz. We can't just 'go for it'. What are you going to do? Divorce Mellie in The White House during the middle of your presidency? The implications of any relationship beyond professional are so magnanimous that you might as well just start picking out the coffin for your political career."

"It's _exactly_ the same thing. Look, Livvy," Fitz sat up in the bed, "I know what you're worried about, but I'm worried about losing you."

Olivia looked at him sadly. She understood where he was coming from – she had frequented that place too many times. The age-old argument – _but why can't we be together?_ – was practically imprinted on her brain, and every time she tried to find logic and an innocuous way to move forward their relationship, she came up short. Good sense and reason barged in angrily, forcing her to accept things the way they were – a beautiful present without a future. How could she explain to Fitz that in his eyes it made sense, but it was truly impractical? She knew that he already knew, but in this moment, she could tell that he had forgotten. She reached out and pressed her hand against his chest, running it up his neck and against his cheek.

"You're not going to lose me. When I have I ever left your side?" she asked.

"That's not the point, you're never _by_ my side," Fitz said.

Olivia sighed, not knowing where to bring the conversation. It would only go around and around in circles, ending with him in The White House and her in her apartment. She closed her eyes and settled down next to him, pulling the comforter over them both. She pushed herself close to him and he pulled her in, kissing the top of her head.

"Tell me you'll think about," he said hopefully.

"I'll think about it," she answered sadly.


	17. Right Place, Wrong Time

Olivia woke in the middle of the large Aspen Lodge bed in a mess of pillows and sheets. She sat up and looked around – Fitz was neither in the bed nor bedroom with her, and the hallway was too long and the door too thick for her to properly hear anything outside the bedroom. Olivia looked to the alarm clock to her right – 8:38AM. Through the blinds of the window, light was struggling to get in, and the sounds of the last birds of the morning were muffled through the window. Olivia hurried out of bed and head to the bathroom where brushed her teeth and readjusted her bun, which was messy and flattened from sleep. She headed to the kitchen, and there was Fitz, standing at the kitchen island and spooning heaps of fruit into a large bowl; a plate piled high with golden waffles sat to his right. Olivia quietly walked up behind him and slid her arms through his own.

"Hey, what time did you get up?" she asked, squeezing around his waist.

"Hey," he kissed her arms, "about thirty minutes ago."

Olivia pulled out two plates from the cupboard and took a seat in a stool at the island. She looked at the kitchen sink, which was empty and spotless.

"When did you even have the time to make all this? I don't smell anything."

Fitz kept his eyes on the fruits, determinedly.

"No you didn't…" Olivia said, catching on. "You _bought_ this?"

"How much would you judge me if I said yes?"

"That is such _cheating_."

"When I was inaugurated, I promised to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution. I never promised anyone anything about culinary skills."

"These are waffles. You don't need culinary skills to make waffles," Olivia snickered, grabbing spoonfuls of strawberries.

"You overestimate me, Ms. Pope."

"Is that so?"

"It is so. Let me tell you a little story about a friend. Let's call him Mitz. So one day Mitz decided that he was going to steam some vegetables. So Mitz got himself some cute, orange baby carrots, and some broccoli and put it in a plastic colander in a saucepan with a little bit of water. Then Mitz left and went about his business, and about ten minutes later, Mitz started to smell something really…strange. It turned out that the plastic colander had melted inside the pot, and sadly, Mitz could not eat his steamed vegetables."

"_That_," Olivia said, mouth full of strawberry, "is the saddest I have ever heard."

"You're telling me, this was like two months ago."

"Well, these strawberries are fantastic if that's any consolation."

"I appreciate that. And these are seriously the best non-homemade waffles you'll ever eat."

Olivia took two waffles from the pile and grabbed the syrup bottle. Fitz sat down in a stool next to her.

"What time is the funeral?" Olivia asked after a beat.

Fitz cleared his throat, "Eleven."

Olivia nodded. Edison's private funeral was set for today and both Fitz and Cyrus were attending, along with close senators and Edison's family. Distractedly, Olivia watch Fitz pour her a glass of orange juice.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You can tell me if you're not okay, you know that," Fitz said warmly, "you can tell me anything."

"Really, I'm fine. It's just…weird. I mean the last time I saw him, we were basically threatening each other. I just can't believe that just like that, he died. I couldn't even get to say 'bye', and I think that I might have even forgiven him in a few months, or years."

"I'm glad," Fitz said, sliding an arm around her back. "I can tell him 'bye' for you, if you want."

"Yes, I want that."

Fitz smiled and kissed the top of Olivia's head.

"How long is the funeral anyway?" Olivia asked, spearing a waffle with her fork.

"I think the service is about an hour, why?"

"Just asking."

"I think I've known you long enough to know that you're never 'just asking'."

"You never know, I could surprise you."

"You could," Fitz said, swirling around a waffle piece in a puddle of syrup, "have you thought about what I said?"

"You mean did I think about it in the time that I was sleeping?"

"I mean in the time that you were awake for the forty minutes before you eventually fell asleep."

Olivia felt her face grow hot; she had been turning in the bed thinking of Fitz's statement, but she thought he was fast asleep.

"Fitz…"

"You're still thinking. Okay, I get it. I'm leaving for the G20 summit on Thursday."

"France?"

"Mexico," Fitz corrected.

"Oh, Calderón." "Exactly," Fitz kissed Olivia full on the mouth. The two of them sat that way for some time, enjoying the first few minutes of the day together. As they talked and laughed, Olivia thought to herself about Fitz's statement. Now, in this moment, when he was sitting next to her and laughing at everything she said, his statement seemed so easy – _be with me_. It sounded so simple and so effortless that she half began to wonder why they didn't just step out together and walk down Pennsylvania Avenue arm in arm. Sitting in the kitchen of the Apspen Lodge in his campaign shirt was so…right, that she almost believed it was possible. "Damn it," Fitz said suddenly. "What?" "It's a quarter after nine. Why didn't you tell me it was so late?" Fitz walked out of the kitchen and down to the bedroom. "Don't blame this on me. You and your really good fake homemade waffles were distracting me!" Olivia called after him, eating the last bit of waffle on her plate before following him.

"Do you want to ride with me back to The White House?" Fitz suggested.

Olivia looked his face, which was hopeful.

"I only have my clothes from last night, so I'm just going to go home and take a shower, and then get to work."

"Call in sick. You're the boss, you don't even have to say why – just don't show up."

"And do what instead? Wait for you to come back from a funeral? Thanks, but no thanks."

Without warning, Fitz suddenly picked Olivia up and dropped her onto the bed, where he leaned in and groaned into her neck; the vibrations tickled against skin. He kissed her neck and then down to her collarbone before Olivia grabbed his shoulders and stopped him.

"Stop, you are going to be late," she said, holding onto his face.

"Give me fifteen minutes," Fitz pleaded.

"No," Olivia said, sliding out from underneath him. "Get ready, I'm leaving."

She hopped off the bed and reached for her clothes, which Fitz had folded neatly and hung over the edge of the bed.

"Fine," he grumbled.

He pulled off his shirt and walked into the bathroom. As Olivia got dressed, she heard the sound of him turning on the shower. He walked back out and over to her, and gripped her waist and pulled her towards him.

"When you're ready, call Tom and he'll drop you home."

"I'm ready now," Olivia said.

The two of them looked at each other, not speaking. Real life had found its way in and was settling upon them again.

"I'm going to call you later tonight," Fitz said.

"Every teen movie I've ever seen says you won't."

Fitz laughed and pulled her closer, "Touché. Well, then I guess it was good knowing you, in the biblical sense of course…um…what was your name again? Donna? Stacie?"

"Goodbye," Olivia said, grinning.

She kissed him on the lips and he walked with her to the door leading to the Lower Terrace, where Tom was stationed dutifully outside with the Secret Service motorcade waiting, engine ready.


	18. Crossroads

"The Oval Office Ms. Pope," said a white house aide as she ushered Olivia into the room, "The First Lady will be right with you."

Olivia nodded and looked around as she waited. As soon as she had gotten back to her apartment, she had taken a quick shower, called over at Pope & Associates to check up on things, and then headed over to The White House, while en route, making an "urgent" appointment to meet with The First Lady. Olivia checked her watch – almost 11:30AM. Fitz was still at the private funeral for Edison, which was exactly what she wanted – no interference, no one else in the room, just her and Mellie. She felt slightly uncomfortable waiting for The First Lady in the place where she and Fitz had had some of their most intimate moments…just the look of his wooden desk sent guilty, reminiscent chills down her sides. Idly, she wondered what Mellie had been doing last night when she and Fitz were at Camp David. Did she know he was there, or was she too busy to notice? Or did she simply not care anymore? Olivia thought of herself and Fitz on the bed…the reassuring way he held her lower back…the strong way he had gripped shoulders…the gentle way he lay her down. Her stomach fluttered as she pictured his lips brushing against her ribs and down to her hipbone…. The door to the Oval Office opened and broke Olivia out of her reverie. Olivia turned around to see Mellie standing in the room.

"Olivia," Mellie said.

"Mellie," Olivia said, "Glad you could make it on such short notice."

"You know you don't need to make appointments to see me. Any reason why you waited until Fitz was occupied? Surely you knew he wasn't here?" Mellie asked.

Olivia ignored her question, "You didn't tell him."

"So you told him then?"

Olivia shook her head, not knowing where to start.

"You told me you would tell him, you asked for a minute alone with your _husband_ to brief him with the truth in case he was mangled by media wolves."

"I was going to tell him," Mellie began.

"And then what? You decided it would be better off if he didn't know?" Olivia asked angrily. "Or that it would be better if I had to tell him on my own without the help of the other people who were involved. I had to break to a man who is the President of the United States that he got here not by his own skill and campaigning effort, but because we broke the law to get him there."

"I _know_ that Olivia. I couldn't tell him, I am trying to keep my husband in office."

"You couldn't keep him anywhere if you tried."

All color drained from Mellie's face, leaving it pale and stunned. Her own words and the line that she had most certainly crossed shocked Olivia herself. Mellie straightened herself up and glared at Olivia, who prepared herself for the diatribe.

"He wants to resign," Mellie said quietly.

A deafening silence overwhelmed the room, and Olivia began to feel dizzy.

"_What_?"

"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III wants to resign from his position as Commander-in-Chief."

"That's not possible, what are you saying Mellie?"

"Exactly what it sounded like. Sunday morning after you and I met, I told him that I didn't think he was taking his presidency seriously," Mellie said, pacing around the round, center carpet, "he told me this after I told him that he needed to buckle down and get working on his campaign for reelection. And then he just blurted it, just like that – that he won't run for reelection, and that he wants to resign."

Olivia took a deep breath, as she tried to hold on to the disbelief that was quickly dissipating.

"What did you say to him?"

"I thought it was a joke," Mellie laughed. "I thought he was joking, I thought he was just saying to make me angry."

"That's it? That's all you said to him?"

Mellie looked at Olivia for a moment, "What else was I supposed to say Olivia? The leader of the United States just told me that he's thinking of bailing out on his own country."

"He didn't say why?"

Mellie crossed her arms across her chest pointedly, and Olivia, knowing the answer as soon as her question had left her lips, looked away.

"This is not happening. He doesn't know what he's saying. We worked hard, and _he_ worked so hard. We cannot let this happen," Olivia muttered to herself.

"You don't think I don't know that? Do you see why I couldn't tell him? And you've only him more of a reason by telling him about Defiance," Mellie snapped. "My husband might be wrapped around your entire fist, but you've only been around for two years Olivia. I was with him at the conception of his very idea to run for president. I devoted my life to get him here, so don't think I don't know the stakes. Don't think that I'm not pushing him to reconsider. He doesn't want this; I know he doesn't want this. And don't pretend as though this isn't the happiest day of your life."

"I don't want this," Olivia said quietly.

Both of them stood on the center carpet in silence for a while.

"What are we going to do?" Mellie asked eventually.

"We need to convince him otherwise," Olivia said, "we need to remind him that he –,"

The door to the Oval Office suddenly swung open and Cyrus walked in. He stopped short at the sight of Mellie and Olivia standing in the middle of the room, and then behind him, walked in Fitz.

"Olivia," Fitz exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

He smiled at her knowingly, and then his eyes fell on Mellie, who was standing feet away from her, looking furious.

"I thought the funeral was an hour?" Olivia asked, checking her watch.

With his eyes still on Mellie uncertainly, Fitz answered, "We only stayed to pay respects and for the actual burial…Mellie, what's going on here?"

"I think you know," Mellie answered shortly.

Fitz looked back and forth from her to Olivia.

"She told me," Olivia said softly.

Fitz let out a heavy sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets. He rubbed his eyes tiredly with the palms of his hands and then looked up at the ceiling. From the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Cyrus shift.

"Told you what?" Cyrus asked, clearly confused.

"He wants to resign," Mellie answered, letting the bitterness in voice coat every syllable.

Cyrus nearly choked. He looked from Mellie to Fitz, who was still staring at the ceiling. Olivia watched his Adam's apple as he swallowed, and she knew that he was wishing he could be anywhere but here.

"_What?!_" he shouted, looking around wildly.

"Is this a joke? What's going on here? You're resigning from what exactly? Your membership at the golf club? Your position with the PTA? Because that's about the only thing I know from which you could possibly be resigning. Because it couldn't be from the Oval Office, which means it definitely couldn't be from your position as President of the United States. I mean I know that much, I know that couldn't _possibly_ be it out now could it, Fitz?" Cyrus asked, sounding progressively hysterical with every word.

"Cyrus," moaned Fitz.

"That couldn't _possibly_ be it right? I mean we are not all standing here in the middle of The White House discussing even the faintest possibility that you would so much as dream about throwing away the work that everyone put in here just to get you in office. I know that's not why we're all here, and if it is, then I don't know why we're all standing around like confused prairie dogs when we could be ordering a psych eval –,"

"_Cyrus_!" Olivia yelled.

Cyrus stopped and turned to her, fuming. He threw his hands up in the air and sat down on the couch, breathing hard. Olivia turned back to Fitz, who was looking at her now. His eyes looked sad and apologetic, but she couldn't quite tell.

"What is Mellie talking about Fitz? Resignation? What's that about?" she asked.

"Liv…" Fitz started and walked towards her.

"_Don't_," Mellie interrupted angrily. "Don't you address her like she is the only one in this room with you; like she is the only one who worked their ass off to put you in office. We all worked harder than we should have to get you here."

"I never asked for that!" Fitz yelled at Mellie.

"He knows?" Cyrus asked bewilderedly.

"You cannot resign Fitzgerald. You are making a huge mistake. I don't even understand how you can just wake up one Sunday and decide that you're going to stop running a country! I did not devote my life to this _mockery_ of a presidency and you know that's what it will be if you resign right now. If I knew you were going to quit two years in, I would have just run myself," Mellie said, her face flushing pink.

Fitz didn't say anything.

"This is ridiculous!" Cyrus boomed, "You are going to let down an entire country and leave everyone hanging? We won Fitz, we won an election for you and now you're pussyfooting and sidestepping."

"Fitz," Olivia began slowly, "if you're having a bad time or if this is a rough patch, we can get through it. We did it for a year on the campaign and we've been doing it all this time. Mellie is right – you can't just run from the country. Think about what you're saying and what that would mean for everyone. Resignation just is not an option."

"Hell it isn't!" Mellie yelled, "I can't even believe we're having this discussion. I can't even believe that this is something you're actually considering. Tell me we're all in a dream so I can go wake up and tell you that I had this really awful dream about how you wanted to abandon an entire administration. Please, tell me. I have worked my ass off for you Fitzgerald Grant, and I'm not about to get a two-year thank you dressed up as a sorry resignation."

"I know what I told you was upsetting," Olivia said calmly, keeping her eyes on Fitz, "but that doesn't mean we have to take it this far. Let's think about this because I know you are stronger than this."

"I took this job to help people, Olivia!" Fitz shouted, "I came into office to do my job and then you tell me that I wasn't even elected and that I had to get my wife and my…you to help me win these people over!"

"Oh shut up," Mellie hissed angrily. "That is all a bunch of crap and you know it so _shut _– _the hell – up_ and stop pretending as though that even had any bearing on your decision. You didn't know about Defiance until after you told me you wanted to resign, so be a man and let's stop hiding from the real reason here."

"Mellie," Fitz said warningly.

"Come on! Spit it out!" Mellie yelled, stepping towards him.

"Mellie…" Olivia said bracingly.

Cyrus grumbled exhaustedly, "We all know what's on going here so let's just speak plainly. Fitz doesn't want to resign because he feels as though he's not getting through the American people anymore. He doesn't want to resign because he feels like a fraud and is overcome by a need for honesty and good will. He wants to resign so he can finally be with his girlfriend without having to sneak notes to her in the back of science class. He wants to resign because _you_," Cyrus pointed a finger at Olivia, "walk in and out of this building leaving him to wonder why he hasn't joined you already. He wants to resign because this room is the only thing stopping him from hanging off your arm. So let's cut the charade."

The room was suddenly quiet with a tense, thick atmosphere. Olivia felt terribly naked and exposed standing in a room with Fitz, and The First Lady, openly addressing their not-so-secret relationship. She wanted to run and leave, but she was rooted to the spot. Fitz was looking at her, as was Cyrus. Mellie was standing with her arms crossed, glaring at her husband.

"You're not resigning," Olivia said, breaking the silence with finality.

Fitz looked up at her and laughed shortly, "I think as Commander-in-Chief, I have a say in my own resignation."

Olivia stepped towards him, "And I think as one of the people who put everything on the line to get you to Commander-in-Chief, and as someone who roots for your success every single day, I have a say. And I say, you're not resigning."

"No, no," Cyrus began, "let him resign. He wants to resign, let him. Let him be the president who left to live a normal, everyday life, only to find out that the raccoons in his trash aren't raccoons at all, but media hounds who no longer care about his privacy, and are dying to their hands on a used condom for a good story."

"Did you even _think_ of Karen and Jerry?" Mellie asked.

Fitz looked up at her and took a deep breath, "Mellie, they didn't even want to move to Washington, D.C."

"You selfish son of a bitch," Mellie spat, "don't use some idle comment from two years ago to defend yourself."

"No, that's a good idea," Cyrus said thoughtfully, "if you move back to Santa Barbara, perhaps by then, the West Coast have other things to do by then rather than ask them about their father's sordid affair."

Olivia bristled, feeling hot embarrassment creep up her neck. She listened to Cyrus, feeling angry with him for his passive aggressive nonchalance. She looked over at Fitz, who had taken a seat down into the couch and was sitting motionless with closed eyes. What he was thinking about, she couldn't tell….

x X x

Fitz was sitting on the couch in his office. He looked around at the scene before him: Cyrus and Mellie were arguing with each other and Olivia was watching them intently, interjecting every so often. The cacophony of their voices was now a background buzz. He was unsurprised at their reaction to his thoughts on resigning, and even the candid conversation of his relationship with Olivia didn't sting him as much as Mellie's words had three days ago on Sunday morning, after her strange meeting with Olivia…

x X x

"_I need to speak to you_. There's something you need to know," Mellie said sternly.

"Speak to me about what?" Fitz asked grumpily, "Are you going to tell me what you and Olivia were talking about?"

"Is that all you care about? What Olivia has to say?" Mellie bristled.

"Let's not do rhetorical questions this early in the morning, Mel."

"Tell me if you don't care about this Fitz! Honestly, tell me. Because it's too early in the morning for me too to be dealing with a baby president who gets into a sour mood every time his girlfriend has to go home."

"You don't know what I want to do, trust me."

"No, honestly I do. Tell me so I can know if it's going to be a waste of time to start getting your campaign ready for reelection."

Fitz laughed.

"Oh, that's funny to you? Two years ago wasn't a landslide victory Fitz. We underestimated Sally, and we underestimated Reston. So tell me what you want."

"I'm not running for reelection Mellie."

"That's what you want…to be a one-term president with no ambitions for a second? We talked about this three years ago Fitz, we talked about you running for reelection and getting a head-start on putting your campaign team together."

"I don't want to put together a campaign team, I don't want run for reelection," Fitz said running a hand through his hair, "What I want is to resign."

Mellie fell silent. Fitz watched her form a reaction, and even his own words sounded strange to him. He wasn't sure if that was what he wanted – all he knew was that he should have followed Olivia to wherever it was that she was going. But the words were out there and Mellie was breathing slowly and controlled.

"Tell me this is a joke. Tell me you're trying to get a rise out of me because I'm stopping you from getting your cold shower?"

Fitz shrugged, "You asked me what I wanted."

"You don't want this," Mellie said, her voice low.

"And what if I do?"

"You don't want this!" she yelled. "Did you even hear what you said to me? Did you hear those words? You are standing in the private bedroom of The White House and you are telling me you want to resign? You are the most powerful man on the planet and you want to give that all up and you haven't even had your run yet? You're stooping pretty low if you want to get me angry."

"This has nothing to do with you Mellie."

Mellie threw her hands up in the air, "Of course not! Of course it has nothing to do with me. Why would I be so stupid as to even mention me? This has to do with _her _as always! This is an Olivia Pope-fueled idea, isn't it? What is your plan Fitz, what's your endgame? Resign so you and Olivia can buy a little flat in Florence? Is that your big plan? Give up an entire country for Olivia_ Pope_?"

Fitz didn't say anything. Mellie was flirting with a nerve and the cold truth. The thought of him and Olivia together was amazing, and he knew Mellie knew that.

"I knew she was good, Fitz. When Cyrus hired her, I knew she was the real deal. But good enough to get you into office and then make you want to leave? Now _that_ is good. That is _astounding_."

Mellie was laughing now.

"Well let me tell you something Fitzgerald Grant. Good freaking luck accomplishing that. Tell her you want to resign and see what happens; tell her 'no thanks, Olivia, I won't take the presidency for three-hundred'. She's not going to want you. Don't you get it? Olivia is _brilliant_. She is good at what she does and she could probably run the whole country right under your nose since you're too busy trying to undo her bra. Olivia runs with the big dogs, and I bet you she's even pulling some of their leashes. So do you really think she's still going to want you when you're not one of them? Do you really think she's going to want you when she can't see the Oval Office in the background? Do you think she's going to want you when you're not wearing that pin, or when your very signature is just a fancy shadow of its former self? Olivia wanted you because you were the President; she wanted you because you were on the same playing field and because you were a powerful man with a title that got things done with a simple name drop. But she won't want you anymore. You're dropping a few notches on her list of standards and prerequisites. She only wanted you because you were someone, so if you let this go and resign, you won't be _anyone_ to her, anymore. You think she's going to date a former president who couldn't even make it four years, and whose political input is essentially invaluable? Do you really think she's going to want to be with someone who can't pull the strings that she always needs to be pulled? Tell Dr. Drysdale that I'm going to need him to get a neurologist because I'm starting to be concerned that you're more delusional than I thought. But you know what," Mellie laughed derisively, "Go ahead. Go ahead and resign. Go be a coward; be the man who can't run a country because he's afraid he'll lose out on a woman. Hide out from your job and your duty; spit in the face of everyone who worked for you and got you to where you are, all for one woman. And then when things go sour and she finally realizes that you're nothing but a dastard who 'fell in love' don't come back to me because I wouldn't even grant you an 'I told you so'."

x X x

"Out," Fitz said suddenly.

Olivia, Mellie, and Cyrus stopped talking. They all turned to look at him.

"Fitz," Cyrus said.

"Out! Everyone out. All three of you, I need you to leave. Get out before I ask Secret Service to escort you, and yes Cyrus, I would go there."

With one last hateful look at him, Mellie turned and left with Cyrus on her heels, grumbling audibly. Just like he knew she would, Olivia remained behind. Confusion was etched all over her face, and all he could think to do was look back at her sadly.

"What are you doing here Fitz?" she asked him.

Her voice was soft and commanding, as always.

"I can't talk about this right now," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry, but I just can't talk about it right now."

For a moment, she stood there watching him. And then with a nod, she turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

**Ouch! Mellie really reamed Fitz a new one. I can't believe he wants to resign! But I guess he really thinks there's no other way for him and Olivia to really be together. Do you think he should resign to be with Olivia? Or do you agree with Mellie and think he's being a selfish, coward and someone who's being blindsided by love? I love to imagine Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III as an amazing president, and I'm hoping he hasn't lost sight of that part of him. Until next time guys! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review (pretty please?) I love hearing what you guys are thinking! **


	19. Who Are You

Olivia was fast asleep when the loud and discordant ringing of her home phone her awake. She opened her eyes and through blurred vision, reached out in the dark for the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Fitz said smoothly.

Olivia rolled over underneath her comforter and peered at her alarm clock – 4:49AM.

"Fitz? Is everything okay? What's going on?"

"Were you sleeping?" Fitz asked lazily.

Olivia sighed and closed her eyes – clearly there was no emergency.

"It's almost five in the morning, Fitz."

"I told you I would call you didn't I? Or is this the wrong number? This isn't Donna?"

"It's five in the morning Fitz," Olivia repeated.

"Oh…" Fitz said slowly, "This is Stacie isn't it? Good. I never really liked Donna anyway."

Despite herself, Olivia smiled sleepily.

"I have a job Fitz, and it requires me to function on this thing called 'sleep', and right now, you are not helping."

"I board Air Force One for the G20 summit in twenty minutes," Fitz said seriously.

Olivia stilled in her bed. The distance between the two of them suddenly seemed much greater than it had a few seconds ago, and now she was no longer tired.

"How long are staying?"

"From this beautiful Thursday morning to Sunday morning. I return just in time for Memorial Day."

"So three days…" Olivia mused.

Fitz didn't respond and instead, they both sat wordlessly on the phone with each other, taking in both the serenity and the longing of their silence. The sun was had hardly started to rise, and Olivia couldn't help but think that this was, in a way, the second day consecutive morning in which they had brought in the day together. She imagined that Fitz was standing fully dressed at the back of the Oval Office, overlooking the South Lawn and thinking the same thing too.

"Fitz?"

"Yes?" Fitz answered, "If you're going to tell me, it's almost five in the morning, I already know."

"Why?"

"Why…is it five in the morning?" Fitz asked quizzically.

"Why do you want to resign?"

On the other end of the line, Fitz sighed loudly.

"This really isn't the kind of pillow talk I was looking forward to Stacie."

Olivia sat up and leaned against the head of her bed.

"I'm serious Fitz. Why do you want to do this?"

"Ok, so obviously you don't think I should," Fitz groaned.

"It doesn't matter what I think. I am asking you why you want to do this."

"I thought we already went over this earlier this morning, Olivia."

"You mean Mellie and Cyrus did. _You_ didn't go over anything; I hardly heard a single word from you."

"Well they were right," Fitz mumbled, "about everything. The only thing stopping me and stopping us is this room right here, this building. What else do I do?"

"So you turn away from your job?" Olivia pressed, "You abandon your duty as a president and leave the nation in the hands of Sally Langston?"

"Last night was the first time in eight days that I was able to sleep," Fitz said seriously, "it was the first time that I wasn't lying on a couch, waiting for daybreak just so I could get up and have something to do other than agonizing over what you're – I don't know. I'm stuck and I'm lost and I'm trying to find a way to get what I want. This is draining me, being here is draining me."

"I don't believe that. I don't believe for a second that you are seriously balking at a little confusion and little exhaustion because you are a much stronger man than that."

"So you think I like being here then?" Fitz snorted, clearly annoyed, "what exactly am I supposed to do Olivia?"

"Don't ask me Fitz. Don't ask me what you should be doing because this is not about me, or us. And it is not about Cyrus needing to be your Chief of Staff, or Mellie needing to be The First Lady. This is about _you_ and what _you_ want. All I know is that two years ago, this is what you wanted and you got it. And now, it may seem like you can't have both, and that this looks like the easy way out but I also know that you haven't forgotten that there are thousands of people out there counting on you to fulfill their hopes and dreams, and do better than the last, and leave big footprints for the next. I know that you ran the hardest race of your life because you wanted to do great things for these people, and I know all of these things because I know you, Fitz. I know that you are an astounding leader and I know that this country _thrives_ at your hands, but for all that I know, you still can't look to me for that answer. Don't look to me to tell you if you should be president or not, because I don't have that answer for. I watch you and I stand by you, and I see what makes you happy and I can see what you want – _all_ of what you want – but that's it. My job stops there. _You_ need to decide how you would feel to turn away. "

On the other end of the line, Fitz was quiet, and Olivia could just picture his face – solemn and pensive, taking in every word spoken.

"Would you have still fallen in love with me if I hadn't run for president? Would you still be in love with me if I didn't win?"

"What?" Olivia stammered, shocked and stung by his question and the urgency in his voice. "Fitz, "I am in love with you _always_. President or no president – none of that has ever mattered to me. You know that."

"I know, I know," Fitz sighed wearily. "It was a dumb question."

"Well don't ask it again," Olivia teased.

"I won't."

"They're calling me out to the South Lawn," Fitz said, after a minute.

Olivia nodded and took a deep breath, "Ok. Have a safe trip. I love you, Fitz."

"I love you, Olivia."

She held onto the phone, keeping it pressed against her ear until the line went dead.

x X x

A few hours later in the early afternoon, Olivia found herself at The White House yet again. But it was Mellie who had requested to speak with her this time.

"The First Lady is waiting in the Roosevelt Room Ms. Pope," White House Social Secretary Paulette Pitcher informed Olivia.

"Thank you, I know where it is," Olivia said quickly, before Paulette had a chance to escort her.

Olivia strode across the hall towards the Roosevelt Room. The door was slightly ajar, and just as she reached out push it open, she heard a loud slam. Startled, Olivia stood back, only leaning in when she heard Mellie's voice,

"How could you be so _senseless _and cruel? How could you honestly have thought I wanted you to take it that far?" Mellie yelled.

Olivia heard no response, and surmised that she was on the phone.

"_Don't_ _you dare_ threaten me; you have gone _so far_ beyond me and anything I would have ever done. I wanted him to _win _and so I did what I had to do – we all did. But _you_," Mellie's voice trembled, "you are reprehensible and disgusting."

It was the anger and poorly hidden fear in Mellie's voice that made Olivia open the door. As soon the door swung open, Mellie turned around and her face fell slack at notice of Olivia standing in the doorway. She pulled from her ear the black landline to the Roosevelt Room, and placed it back in its cradle immediately.

"Who were you talking to?" Olivia asked, suspiciously.

"Olivia," Mellie said quickly, in an effortful attempt to exude an air of tranquility. "I didn't hear you come in. Paulette usually knocks."

"_Who were you talking to Mellie_?" she demanded.

Mellie inhaled deeply.

"Hollis Doyle."


	20. Tightrope

Olivia blinked.

"Why would you be talking to Hollis? Defiance is over. And what did you mean by him 'taking it that far'?"

Mellie didn't say anything, and only played with the pearl necklace at the base of her throat**.**

"Mellie, if something more about Defiance has happened, you need to let me know right now," Olivia said gravely, not taking her eyes off her.

"I told Hollis," Mellie finally confessed.

"Told him what?"

Mellie sat down at the table in the center of the room, and put her forehead in her palms.

"What did you tell Hollis Doyle?" Olivia beseeched.

"I told him about Senator Edison Davis," Mellie blurted out, "I told him everything you told me. As soon as you left on Sunday, I called him. I had to do it Olivia, because you came to me with this _ridiculous_ and awful idea about giving him my son for bait, and I just knew that couldn't be the only option. Hollis has helped us before so I called him because I didn't know who else to call," Mellie said.

A heavy foreboding feeling began to shroud Olivia, who closed the door to the Roosevelt Room and then walked over to the table where Mellie sat with her head still in her hands.

"What _exactly_ did you say to him?"

Mellie looked up, "I told him that the senator was threatening to leak the story about Defiance in less than a day and that he needed to something about it because there was absolutely no way I was going to make a political and public spectacle of my son. I didn't think he would turn it around because he's involved, and he told me he would take care of it but I promise you, I did _not_ know."

Her voice was trembling again**, **just as it had been before Olivia had entered the room, and Olivia knew that she now had to ask the question she was afraid to pose. 

"What did Hollis mean when he said he would take care of it, Mellie?"

Mellie took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"He set Senator Edison Davis up for the fall in Seneca Creek State Park. Hollis set it up, and he let him die. He set it up _so_ that he would die."

It was as though the room had started to spin violently: the walls were spinning fast, and blurring before her eyes. Olivia could hardly catch her breath, much less see what was in front of her, and a panicky nausea was rising up her throat; it tasted sour and sick. Olivia dropped her purse onto the table and collapsed into an open chair. Mellie's words were echoing nastily, bouncing off the insides of her skull and rendering her speechless. Olivia put a hand up to her mouth, fearing that she might vomit. And what seemed like hours passed before she finally spoke; every word slow and deliberate.

"Mellie, do you _know_ what you just said to me? Do you know what this means?"

"I didn't know," Mellie wept.

She was crying now and her face was pale and wet.

"I had no idea he would do something like this. I thought he was going to do something else; I thought he would call the same guy with the voting machines and tell him to destroy evidence, or prepare him to lie, or _something_."

"_He killed seven people_ _Mellie_," Olivia whispered hoarsely.

"What?" Mellie's voice faltered.

"Cytron. The explosion in Ohio that killed those seven people? That explosion that was not random and it was not the result of a bitter ex-girlfriend named Lindsey Dwyer. It was Hollis Doyle's solution to someone who had the potential to expose all of us. It was his way of rerouting the tracks. He killed those seven people in the explosion Mellie; seven, innocent people _died_ because of him. He is so far beyond dangerous and you have _severely_ underestimated him."

Mellie wiped at her face with the sleeve of her cardigan. She looked at Olivia with fearful eyes.

"I was _completely unaware_."

"Damn it Mellie!" Olivia yelled, "You told me you were going to talk to the President. You told me you needed a moment alone with him to inform him and instead you called Hollis? This is –,"

"The autopsy report has been halted," Mellie interrupted.

"What?"

"The coroner's report for Senator Davis's autopsy. It's been halted. That's why he called me. He called to tell me."

Olivia could hardly dare to believe what she was telling her. She stood up and leaned on her palms against the table until she was only inches away from Mellie's face.

"Did you call Hollis Doyle four days ago on Sunday morning – the same morning Senator Davis was found dead – to tell him that he was planning on selling Defiance to _The Washington Post_?" She asked.

"Yes."

Olivia let go of the table and gaped at Mellie as though seeing her for the first time. Mellie's eyes searched Olivia's face, anxious and terrified. The taut and anxious atmosphere of the room had reached its climax – true fear and a horrible realization seized Olivia. As she looked at Mellie, she could see in her face the situation that was transpiring right before them. Only hours ago, she was on the phone with Fitz and still feeling relieved at their near political death experience. And now, she was looking at his wife, who was sitting in the Roosevelt Room, splattered with circumstantial mud and holding the allegorical shovel. Olivia steadied herself with the back of the wooden chair, and took a deep breath.

"Do you know what this means Mellie? Do you know what this means for you?"

Mellie sat back in her chair.

"I did not know Olivia. I called him and he said he would take care of it for me. How was I supposed to know he would go this far?"

"You _weren't_ supposed to know. You weren't supposed to call Hollis Doyle for help. You were supposed to talk to Fitz like you told me you were going to and then this would not have been an issue. Senator Edison Davis would still be alive and you would not be standing here telling me that there is a chance that you could be implicated in a full-blown, planned murder. Hollis _killed_ someone, Mellie. He killed a senator of The United States – the Senate Majority Leader. Senator Davis is dead because of Hollis Doyle and no matter how you spin it, _you_ were still the one to call him," Olivia hissed.

"It was a secure line!" Mellie shouted desperately; fresh tears swimming down her face.

"You're underestimating him again," Olivia answered coldly.

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling a rapid boil of anger towards Mellie's rash and stupid decision. Mellie sat quietly, her own chest rising up and down with deep breaths. Her hands were clenched tightly together, rendering her knuckles pale and trembling.

"What happens if the autopsy disproves the fall?" She asked quietly.

"Then you are in _unfathomable_ trouble," Olivia breathed.

"I cannot do this," Mellie said, through clenched teeth. "I cannot – I am The First Lady. And Fitz…they are going to find out Olivia," Mellie locked eyes with Olivia. "If that happens, they will find out why Hollis did what he did and they will find out everything we have done. And now that Fitz knows everything, his own ignorance can't protect him anymore. We need to fix this. I need you to fix this. Someone died."

Olivia looked away; beneath all of her concern for her own position in The White House, Mellie was right: Fitz's presidency would hardly take stumble. Rather, it would suffer an absolute catastrophic blow fraught with conspiracy and murder. Olivia looked at the clock on the wall – 1:02PM. Fitz had been in Mexico for some time now, entirely oblivious to the unfolding circumstances in his home. She thought of their early morning conversation…Fitz had told Mellie that he wanted to resign, but to Olivia, he never spoke those words. She had asked him why; she had given him a chance to tell her that that was what he wanted, but he never did. Olivia looked around the Roosevelt Room – from the tapestry on the walls, to the door that lead to the Oval. She knew that he would have given them up to be with her, but not because he wanted to let go, but because he felt he had to choose…. Olivia laced her fingers together and looked directly at Mellie.

"What else did Hollis tell you? Did Hollis say anything else to you on the phone besides telling you about the autopsy report?"

"That was it," Mellie drew her lips into her mouth and bit them, "he didn't say anything else. Just that it was being halted for irregularities and that he was covering up his tracks but that if anything came out, I'm still the one who called him."

Olivia nodded, thinking.

"Mellie, this is really bad."

"What am I going to do?"

"You are going to do _everything _I tell you, exactly as I tell you, and when I tell you – nothing more, and nothing else. Okay."

Mellie swallowed, "Ok."


	21. When the Levee Breaks

At exactly 6:39AM the next morning, Olivia's doorbell sounded. Fully dressed, she rushed over to her door and swung it wide open to reveal a harassed-looking Cyrus.

"You do know I don't work before seven?" Cyrus asked.

Olivia regarded him seriously without a hint of a smile, and hurriedly ushered him inside. She crossed over to the kitchen and pulled out two bottles of water. She handed one to Cyrus and walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. Cyrus followed suit, and twisted open his water bottle.

"We have a major problem Cyrus."

"You mean other than the fact that I could be out of a job whenever Fitz decides that he wants to stop being a grown up?" Cyrus asked, holding the bottle of water up to his lips.

"Stop that. I'm being serious. Hollis killed Edison, Cy."

Cyrus paused mid-sip. He looked at Olivia curiously, and then eyed his bottle of water.

"Before you repeat that, do you mind getting me something a little stronger than this?"

Olivia leaned in closer.

"He _killed_ Edison, he set it up so that he would fall and die."

"How do you know this?"

"He called Mellie yesterday. She called him the Sunday that I told her about Edison's plan to leak everything about Defiance and he said that he would take care of it. He killed Edison– he planned it so that he would die. And now, they're halting the autopsy report. We should have told her about Cytron Cyrus, because she _never_ would have gone to him."

"Mellie called Hollis that morning?"

"Yes."

"The morning Edison died?"

"Yes."

"And she told him everything you told her?"

"Again…yes," Olivia sighed.

"That Mellie," Cyrus said fondly, "she always knew how to get right in the middle of the game. It was her strong suit when she was a lawyer, but now as The First Lady…not so much."

"What do we do?" Olivia asked beseechingly

Cyrus shrugged, and then chuckled to himself.

"Forgive me if I am a bit too busy rifling through the yellow pages to start feeling useful and worth your while, but you just told me that the president's wife is in the know about the death of a US senator, who's passing is going to be ruled a murder as soon as the autopsy report proves so. And yesterday, the president unveiled his grand plan to resign from office. Not that you were upset about that. I mean…you must know what it's like."

"Excuse me?" Olivia asked, baffled.

"You know what it's like to want to give up all that you have just for one person. May I remind you of a certain White House intern by the name of Amanda Tanner, who was wrongly identified with the voice on the sex tape with Fitzgerald Grant. You wanted to admit it was you on that tape, didn't you? You would have dragged your entire reputation through the mud, you would have painted yourself as the all-knowing and culpable seductress who couldn't keep her hands off of a married man; you would have been the absolute irony; a modern day Monica Lewinsky, but with better hair. And seemingly, all of that would have been okay with you. You would have done all of that to save the presidency of a man who doesn't even want it badly. So I think I yes, you do know what it's like," Cyrus took a sip of water.

Olivia eyed Cyrus, bristling at his words on the inside.

"He wants it," she said after a few moment's silence.

Cyrus laughed, "That's rich. Were you even in the room two days ago?"

"I know he wants it Cyrus. But you berating him is not helping."

Cyrus scrunched his forehead, "So I'm supposed to baby him and sugarcoat everything and tell him everything's going to be okay and that sure Fitz, you can choose the color of your own lunchbox and of course, you can pick out your own clothes for the first day of second grade."

"No, you're supposed to trust that he'll make the right decision. You're supposed to believe that he wants the right things for him and that he hasn't lost sight of what they are."

Cyrus regarded Olivia carefully, scrutinizing her face and her words. Then he grumbled loudly and looked up at the ceiling.

"Like I told him, his life would be so much better if he were a cynic."

Olivia laughed, "Then he wouldn't be our Fitz."

Cyrus snorted and took a large gulp of water.

"Can he shut it down? Can Fitz shut down the autopsy? He did it for Pastor Drake; he stopped the US attorney."

"President Grant is in Mexico right now, with about as much ability to do so as the Vice President."

Olivia nodded and looked around her apartment.

"He has no idea," Olivia said, staring out the window, "He left for Mexico yesterday and he has no idea. I don't know what to say to him, and I don't know what to do."

"I'll take of care of that, but this is the second time that we've sat on this living room, on this _couch_, and you've told me that you didn't know what to do. Unacceptable. Do what you always do, Olivia Pope."

x X x

A few hours later, Olivia walked into Pope & Associates, breezing past Huck, Harrison, Abby, and Quinn.

"Everyone, we have a new client."

She tacked up a picture of the translucent window.

"Millicent Grant, wife of The President of the United States."

"The First Lady?" Abby asked, perplexed – staring at the picture of Mellie.

"Precisely. At around noon yesterday, The First Lady got a phone call – from this man…" Olivia taped a picture of Hollis next to Mellie's, "telling her that there is a chance that she could be implicated in the murder of Senator Edison Davis."

"Murder?" Quinn blurted out, "He died from a fall."

"His autopsy has been halted due to irregularities and concerns, and we need to avoid suspicions associated with members of The White House and The Capitol."

"What does that have to do with The First Lady?"

"Nothing," Olivia said, removing her jacket. "And 'nothing' is exactly what we want to maintain. The First Lady is like any other client, and we do exactly what she needs us to do to protect her privacy."

"Why would anyone be suspicious of the President's wife? What motive would she have?" Quinn asked, sounding unconvinced.

Olivia looked away, and Harrison cleared his throat pointedly. He looked at Quinn, who bit her lip.

"Okay," Olivia continued, "Now that you're all aware – the details. We need to completely disassociate The First Lady from Senator Davis. Find out what the general opinion is on their relationship. Do people think they were close? Do people think they didn't know each other at all? Anything. If there's a preexisting foundation and it doesn't favor us, debunk it – destroy it. You and Huck to head to the Capitol – be discreet, don't be seen by unnecessary people, don't ask too many questions, don't look too interestesd. You're detectives, but remain as third party as possible."

Olivia dropped her purse down onto the table.

"Harrison, Quinn,"

Quinn and Harrison stood up.

"I need you to see if you can find anything about the autopsy. Find out where it is, what's the status. Anything."

"For Senator Edison Davis?" Harrison asked.

"Yes."

"He's a senator…you want us to go up and ask the US attorney and whatever coroner is working on the Senate Majority Leader?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"This is the Senate Majority Leader…"

"I know."

"This isn't…impossible?"

"Maybe, but don't have time to determine what's possible and impossible. We don't have time to not try and get this done."

In her purse, Olivia's phone began to vibrate. She pulled it out as Harrison and Quinn gathered their things to leave – "CYRUS".

"What's up?"

"Details confirming the revision of the autopsy broke and the story will be up and out for press tomorrow morning. Everyone will be reading it over their morning muffins," Cyrus said solemnly.

"Crap," Olivia whispered.

She quickly hung up the phone and called out to Quinn and Harrison making their way to the door, "Quinn, Harrison – change of plans."

x X x

"…_shocking news just emerging from the Capitol. New discoveries in the death of ex-Senate Majority Leader, Edison Davis, have surfaced and are being regarded as what federal police have described as suspicious and alarming. No further observations have been made from either the officials or the Capitol, and we…"_

"…_upon finding irregularities on the autopsy of Edison Davis, who was buried just this Wednesday…"_

"…_current Senate Majority Leader, Gerald Bynum, who took the position on Tuesday, May 22, two days post Davis was pronounced dead, has not yet commented…"_

Olivia pressed MUTE on the remote, sank back into the chair in her office at Pope & Associates, and stared into the depths of colors and shapes that ran across her television. Since eight that morning, every news station was reporting the new and shocking findings on Edison's death. It was out now – his death would no longer being ruled a tragic accident from the fall, and the media was picking it at voraciously like vultures. A heavy sadness came over Olivia as she thought of Edison's parents, who must be holding each other somewhere, absolutely stricken with renewed grief, pain, and confusion, after laying their son to rest. Olivia bit her lips and watched the reporter mouth soundlessly. To her left, Cyrus cleared his throat.

"The Capitol and The White House is going to be swarming with reporters interviewing those who knew him best, close colleagues, anyone who ever even offered him a refreshment on the Senate floor," Cyrus said seriously.

Olivia nodded, hardly listening – a short clip of Edison's funeral was now playing.

"We need to be on our toes, Liv…Liv?"

"Yes, yes. I know," Olivia replied, startled.

"Are you okay?"

"Does he know?" she asked quickly, turning to face Cyrus.

"Briefed him last night. We're going to need to talk to him tomorrow morning, as soon as he gets in. Sound good?"

Olivia picked up the remote and quickly pressed 'OFF'. The television screen went black instantly, and Olivia closed her eyes.

"Sounds good."


	22. Blue Morning, Blue Day

A quarter past eight the next morning, Olivia walked into The White House. She walked up the stairs, greeted Tom and Hal, and then headed to the Roosevelt Room, where Cyrus told her they would all be meeting. Like so many times before, she opened up the door and sitting at the long wooden table is Fitz, Mellie, and Cyrus. The President was sitting at the head of the table with Cyrus on his right and Mellie on his left. Whatever conversation was happening came to a stop and they all turned around as soon as the door opened. What looked like relief crossed Mellie and Cyrus's face, but it was Fitz's that Olivia wanted to see. He was looking at her, and if she wasn't mistaken, a small smile was playing at the edge of his lips. She caught his eye, held his gaze for a moment before closing the door.

"Mellie, Cyrus, Mr. President," Olivia said, walking towards them.

Her decision to call Fitz by his title was certainly not lost on anyone in the room, but Olivia felt uncomfortable as the last time she had been in the same room with the three of them, her relationship with Fitz was openly acknowledged. Olivia took the seat next to Cyrus, aware of Fitz watching her sit down, as well as the disappointed look on his face.

"Now that we're all accounted for," Fitz said wearily, finally taking his eyes off Olivia, "what do we do now?"

"How much did they tell you already?" Olivia asked.

"Everything," Cyrus answered, "we told him everything."

Fitz nodded and smiled faintly, "Everything, indeed."

Olivia watched him for a moment, looking for a sign of stress.

"Okay," she said finally, "the media is drinking up this the story like it's the last gallon of water at the grocery store before a storm; everything is in a frenzy right. We need to make sure that this doesn't come back to us. We lost the chance to shut down the autopsy, and I don't know what Hollis is doing and I don't know what he's up to, but he is a liability, and we need to make sure that this doesn't get back to us," Olivia said.

"Which is probably what he plans on having happen anyway," Cyrus said angrily, "Selfish bastard."

"I called him to ask for help, I didn't call him to murder someone. He can't pin that on me," Mellie said hastily.

"That's not the point anymore Mellie. It's not about the fact that you didn't do anything and that you didn't mean for any of this to happen. No one is saying that you did. It _is_ the fact however, that Hollis is a dangerous guy and your phone call – secure line or not – still exists. He is not above killing nine people, so we need to be prepared if ends up pinning stuff on you."

Mellie concurred with a fraction of a nod, and Olivia looked around at the table. Cyrus was looking solemn and Fitz was looking distracted. Olivia turned away from him and continued talking.

"People – reporters, police, are going to be swarming around The Capitol, and possibly The White House and the capitol looking for answers, clues, things that might lead them in the direction of Edison. As Chief of Staff Cyrus, you know what to do about who the President can and cannot see. Extend that stringency to Mellie and leave her Chief out of this, I don't want to inform any more people. Verna Thornton needs to be informed, and we need to have her utmost trust on this."

"I'll call her," Cyrus said dutifully.

"The planned murder of a senator cannot make set even a toe inside this house. We need to be a united front. Everyone needs to stand together, and we need to make sure that the dynamic in The White House is solid," Olivia said carefully, looking between Fitz and Mellie now, "or at least it appears to be."

Fitz closed his eyes and let out a dry laugh.

"So are you going to admit to everyone you did this on purpose?" he asked, turning his attention to Mellie now.

Her mouth dropped open and she raised a hand to her chest, affronted.

"Excuse me?"

"We're not stupid here," Fitz said, standing up, "You were afraid I would resign. You were afraid that I would leave so you decided to screw this up for me. You decided to call Hollis, and let him do what he did, to save _your_ ass and so that I would have to stick it out."

Mellie flushed; red patches of anger appeared her cheeks.

"I did no such –,"

"I mean why wouldn't you?" Fitz interrupted, "You are practically bending over backwards to protect your First Lady position, so you couldn't bear to have me resign. I mean there you go again, always sticking your neck into things you shouldn't be."

"This is not about me, Fitz."

"It's not? I tell you I want to resign and then I come back from the G20 Summit and the first thing I hear is that Senator Edison Davis's death no longer looks like an accident and I have to board Air Force One wondering, why the hell would my wife phone him? And then it hit me."

"How could you think I did this on purpose? I am not _stupid_ Fitzgerald, and I am not a murderer. How dare you even imply any of those things to me; how dare you imply that I would be so selfish and so foolish as to knowingly inform Hollis," Mellie said.

She too was standing now.

"Doesn't matter because guess what? You don't have to worry anymore, because it's not happening. I am not ending a presidency like this – tainted with the murder of a senator. I am not letting you tarnish my reputation and then duck down from the job."

"Stop!" Olivia yelled, "both of you."

Fitz put his hands up to his head and looked at Olivia, who was glaring at him. He sank back down into his chair and took a deep breath.

"We don't have the time to argue. We need to stop Hollis from doing anything we don't want him to do."

"How do we do that?" Mellie asked, composed.

"I'll meet with him. Tuesday."

"What?" Cyrus exclaimed.

Fitz was watching Olivia incredulously, but she kept her eyes away from him.

"I need to see what we wants. I need to see if I can find what he's up to."

"The last time you met with someone to see if you could stop them directly, what happened?" Cyrus asked.

Olivia ignored him. Fitz suddenly stood up again.

"If you guys don't mind, I'm going to retire. I am beyond exhausted and I have a busy day later today, and an early day tomorrow at the Arlington Cemetery tomorrow for Memorial Day."

"Good. I have a luncheon to plan with the dining room staff anyway," Mellie informed, sounding relived.

She too stood up, and quickly left the room. Olivia watched Fitz adjust his tie and then with a short glance at her, he left the room.

"That went well," Cyrus yawned.

He got up and headed towards the door, before stopping and turning to look at Olivia who was still seated.

"Meeting's over Olivia, our dear President has to take a _nap_."

"Go," Olivia said. "I'll be leaving in a minute."

Cyrus eyed her suspiciously before sighing loudly and exiting, leaving the door wide open behind him. Olivia waited for a moment and then quickly left the Roosevelt Room. Briskly, she walked down Center Hall into the West Sitting Room before stopping at a closed door to her left – the Master Bedroom. A mixture of boldness and apprehension settled over Olivia as she reached out and held onto the brass doorknob before twisting it and opening up the door. Immediately, Olivia's eyes scanned one of the few rooms of The White House in which she had never entered. The walls were a robin's egg blue with white trimmings, the ceilings were high, and the windows were long and large with beautiful curtains. Olivia's eyes scanned the bed, which was perfectly made with a soft yellow comforter, before settling on open chest of drawer that was stuffed with sweatshirts all too familiar to her. She smiled to herself as her eyes traveled over thrown about pairs of Fitz's shoes and socks. And then, tucked away by the window farthest from the entrance, Olivia saw the crib. It was large and a beautiful rich mahogany that blended with the second chest of drawers neatly decorated with jewelry boxes and stands…. A sudden sadness and a pathetic feeling of alienation clouded the room. _What are you doing here?_ Olivia thought to herself, feeling embarrassed although she was not being watched. She took a deep breath and almost turned to leave, when from the walk-in closet to her right, Fitz emerged.

"Livvy, what are you doing in here?" he asked, smiling broadly.

His shirt, tie, and jacket were gone and he was wearing, instead a t-shirt over his dress pants – obviously in the midst of changing.

Olivia shook her head embarrassingly, "I'm sorry. I came to talk to you but this is inappropriate. It's your bedroom; it's Mellie's bedroom. I don't know why I came in here."

She turned to leave, but she had hardly taken a second step before she felt Fitz hook his fingers around the inside of her elbow. As innocent a grasp as it looked, a wonderfully steamy heat ran through Olivia's body, evoking images of days past…. She stopped and turned to him, letting him pull her back.

"No, don't go. You wanted to talk to me."

Olivia looked at him. She hadn't seen him in three days, and in that moment – it was almost comparable to not having been able to him for three months. Her eyes traveled from his lips – which were parted slightly – up his nose and to his hair. The scar that disappeared into his hairline was fading, and his hair was back to its original length. Fitz smelled like vanilla and fresh laundry all at the same time, and Olivia wanted to rest her head against the soft cotton of his t-shirt and against his chest – broad and safe. Like hers, Fitz's own eyes searched her face – partly amused and partly concerned.

"How was Mexico?" she asked.

"Boring," Fitz replied. "How was Washington?"

"The same as how you left it."

Fitz nodded, "Hmm…that's really good to know."

His eyes were was boring into her, and saying things she wouldn't dare speak aloud. The presence of the large bed next to them was not lost on Olivia and she knew that Fitz could feel the magnetic pull between them too. He reached out and let his fingers run through the hair hanging down by her left cheek and then slide down her neck. His arm slipped underneath her jacket and slid them across her ribcage and to her back. The feeling of his hand – cool and strong – against her skin through the thin fabric of her camisole made Olivia jump. She stepped back.

"Fitz, stop it."

"Why? There aren't any cameras here."

"This is your bedroom, and this is Mellie's bedroom," Olivia reminded him, pushing his arm down and away from her.

"So? It wouldn't even be hers if it weren't mine first."

Olivia took a deep breath.

"I know you're mad at her and I know you think she did this on purpose, but she didn't even know at the time that you were going to resign."

Fitz groaned and stepped back from Olivia, "Are you kidding me?" he asked.

"It's the truth Fitz. I know you are mad at her, but we are dealing with reality here. We have a _murder_ tied to The White House; tied to your presidency. Hollis did what he did because of Defiance, Ohio and because of what Edison was planning to do with what he knew. We need to get back to reality, we need to take a beat or something and just _focus_."

Fitz watched Olivia carefully.

"Why does this always have to be your reality?" he asked.

"What?"

"Why is it that reality for you is never anything good? For you, the reality is always some kind of problem, some sort of issue that always needs to be fixed, or something that always stands in the way. Well, my reality is that I love you, and that _we_ are in love. So why can't that be your reality too? Why can't that be the reality we get back to?" he asked genuinely.

Olivia blinked, caught off guard by the truth in his words.

"Fitz, I –,"

"Oh," said a voice from the door, "I'm sorry. I didn't think that I would come up here and interrupt something."

Both Olivia and Fitz turned to see Mellie standing in the doorway of the bedroom, looking both amused and annoyed. She fixed her eyes on Olivia, whose face flushed with hot embarrassment. She looked down.

"Mellie," Olivia started cautiously, "Nothing –,"

"No, no. Don't stop on my account," Mellie said, looking at Fitz now.

"No, I came to tell Fitz that everyone needs to cooperate. And now I'm leaving, " Olivia said quickly.

She nodded courteously to the two of them and left.

**I finished the draft for these two chapters about 15 minutes before I saw tonight's Scandal, and I could NOT believe that what I had written was so similar to what was happening! Maybe that means I should write for the show? :) Anyway, I hope that you guys still hang on to my story and that don't find it TOO similar – I try to keep it away from the show's storylines as much as possible while still maintaining authenticity. So Olivia yet again needs to pull it together and become the fixer – but with her and everyone else (which now includes no longer none-the-wiser Fitz) directly in the middle – can she do it? Hopefully her meeting with Hollis goes over well. Until next time guys! Thank you TONS for reading and don't forget to review!**


	23. Funeral for a Friend

Along with the usual quiet lull of Washington, D.C. during holiday times, Memorial Day brought in a heavy and unforgiving rainstorm that lasted well into Tuesday. It had rained all Tuesday morning, leaving the outdoors devoid of its usual springtime sunlight, and instead casting a tired and sullen gloom on what seemed like the entire district. By the time the night fell and ten o' clock rolled around, the rain had still shown no sign of letting up, and it beat persistently and harshly against the windows of the Pope & Associate office building. Olivia was in the middle of her private office, away from the rest of her associates, and waiting for Hollis Doyle to arrive. She had requested to meet with him in the late night hours, away from prying eyes of camera-happy tourists and out-and-about news reporters. While some reprieve had been given yesterday in honor of Memorial Day, the story of Edison's autopsy findings was still making its shocking and upsetting rounds through the media, and Olivia didn't want to risk that any further connection between Hollis and herself could be documented. An issue of yesterday's _Washington Post_ dated in black ink – MAY 28, 2012 sat on the top of her desk – on the cover, a picture of Fitz standing solemnly at Arlington Cemetery.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in," Olivia called.

Quinn poked her head in, "Olivia. It's Hollis Doyle."

Olivia stood up, "Thank you Quinn."

The door swung open and as Quinn turned away, Hollis Doyle entered the office – smartly dressed in a dark blue suit, jacket and tie. He closed the door behind him, and shook water from his umbrella onto the floor, letting the droplets pool on the wooden floor boards. Hollis flashed a smile and walked towards Olivia, who was standing behind her desk.

"Ms. Pope, it's been a while. What can I do for you?"

Olivia stared at him – _this is the man who had killed Edison_, she thought to herself. A volatile hatred raged within her.

"What is it like to be you? What is it like to walk in here and look at me and not feel even an ounce of remorse for what you've done?"

Hollis shrugged innocently, "With all due respect Ms. Pope, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"You _killed_ a senator."

Hollis threw his head back and laughed. He pulled at the lapel of his jacket and sat down on the couch, facing Olivia's desk.

"Is that why you brought me in here? To accuse me of killing the Senate Majority Leader? Is this the media's new angle and I haven't been made aware of it?"

"So then tell me – how is that you 'took care of him'? When you told The First Lady you would. How is it that you handled that Hollis? What did you mean then?"

Hollis squinted at Olivia and leaned back into the brown leather cushions, seemingly relaxed.

"It was a necessary course of action Olivia. He knew too much and had way too much ammunition for Hollis Doyle's liking."

"A necessary course – a _necessary course of action_? You _murdered_ someone Hollis. You killed a man. You took a life and you destroyed a family! And this would not be the first time."

"And like I said: a course of action that was entirely necessary. What was the other option Olivia? Go to federal prison for treason? Sit and rot in a cell like a common inmate? Because that is exactly what would have happened, and beauty is certainly in the eye of the beholder but that is not a pretty picture," Hollis reasoned.

"How did you do it?" Olivia asked abruptly.

Hollis looked stunned.

"Excuse me? I think that's a little too rough for the delicacy that is –,"

"_How?!_" Olivia yelled.

Hollis took a deep breath, "Hollis Doyle doesn't share. What purpose would be served if you were privy to that kind of information, huh?"

Olivia pressed her lips together.

"You are a _murderer_. A sick and twisted murderer."

"I would like to disagree with you there. I am simply but a businessman. I am a businessman who voraciously protects his own interests and in the process…yours as well."

"A man is dead because of what you did. A man had to watch his life go before his eyes because of _you_," Olivia said, hearing the desperation in her voice as she grappled for words strong enough to get Hollis to see and understand the gravity of the situation.

"And for that I am terribly sorry, but as I said…it had to be done. Imagine where you would be if I hadn't gotten rid of Jesse? You wouldn't have ever had the chance to step foot in The White House, let alone invite me in to your acceptably lucrative business here. Verna would be standing _before_ the Supreme Court Justice. And Cyrus? Well…who knows about him."

"Fix this," Olivia snapped. "Fix it now, otherwise you and I are going to have serious issues."

"Oh," Hollis said, waving his hands unconcernedly, "I've already got that covered."

"Really? And what are you going to do? Murder every reporter and investigator on the case? Kill the coroner and the undertaker?"

"Now _that_ would just be a little gratuitous don't you think?"

Olivia folded her arms across her chest and looked Hollis directly in the eye.

"Did you tape your phone call with The First Lady?"

Hollis chuckled and cocked his head.

"Am I under arrest here? Or are just questioning me for good fun?"

"You are playing with serious fire Hollis. The First Lady just became my client and so I _advise_ you to watch where you're stepping," Olivia declared.

"In my opinion, The First Lady has much bigger fish to fry than a silly phone call. How is…what's his name? Oh yes – Isaac? You're there a lot so you must see him. The First Lady wouldn't want that out in the open would she?"

Years of experience working with people trying their utmost to squeeze her for information taught Olivia how to keep an impassive face that was free of revealing emotion, but she was nonetheless stunned. _How did Hollis know about Isaac? How could he have known?_ She thought to herself. And as if he had taken Olivia's fraction of a second of silence for surprise, Hollis smiled knowingly. Olivia glared back at him.

"I am telling you to keep this away from The White House Hollis. Killing Senator Davis was _your_ idea; The First Lady had nothing to do with this. It is _all you_. It was your plan to kill him, just like those seven people at Cytron."

"Now, now, look here Olivia," Hollis said standing up, "I'll do whatever it is I see fit just as I've been doing for many years now. But just because you're starting to feel guilty, doesn't mean I need to spare your feelings."

"Feeling guilty for what?" Olivia asked, perplexed.

"I noticed that you were all prepped and ready to jump down my throat for this, but did it ever occur to you that your part was played, and that was it played quite well, I might add? Defiance never would have happened if it weren't for _us_ – us including _you_. Defiance would never have existed to reach Edison's ears, and his death never would have happened if it weren't for us giving him something to leak. So this act – this holier than thou charade where you scold me like I'm the bad guy who did it out of sport – you can save it. We were all part of the same firing squad, so it doesn't matter who shot the real bullet…you're just as much to blame for his sad and untimely death."

"Get out," Olivia said quietly.

"We're done? I was expecting –,"

"_GET OUT!_" Olivia screamed, feeling the sheer volume of her voice grate against her throat.

Hollis took a deep breath and shook his head. He gathered his umbrella, turned to look at Olivia once more, and then left.

A debilitating exhaustion came over Olivia, and she sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands. Veiled as they were in intimidation and strategically intended offense, Hollis's words had struck a delicate chord in Olivia, and it was chiming with a hard, cold truth. _You did do this_, Olivia thought, _you are_ _part of this, and in the end, it was Edison who was doing what he should have, and had you not done what you did for Fitz, he would still be alive_. Edison's face swam to the front of Olivia's mind, finally making its due appearance. Their relationship had lost anything romantic the moment she walked out on him at Cobb's Café, but the image of her hands on his, unaware that that would be the last she saw of him, stung her. The guilt, sadness, and anger ate away at Olivia's insides, as she remembered how close his face had been to hers. And then finally, like an aged and beaten dam, everything surged forth, and Olivia began to cry. For the first time since she listened to the news of his death on the television, she took the time to acknowledge the sadness, and to grieve over the loss of someone who, while they had planned to destroy what she had worked for, was nonetheless there for her for many years before that. The tears were warm and salty as they slipped down Olivia's face, over her lips, into her mouth, and down her chin. She did nothing to wipe them away and let herself bathe in the guilt that she felt she deserved. The sobs that racked her body were deserved – she deserved to be this upset, and Edison did not deserve what he got. Olivia did not know for how long it was that sat in the middle of her office, crying, but eventually, she had run out – of tears and of energy. She blinked and dabbed at her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her silk blouse, and then pushed her hair away from her forehead, which was damp with sweat.

Olivia knew what was important now. Hollis had gone far beyond the realm of anything she knew herself to be capable of understanding – he had mercilessly taken the life of seven unsuspecting and innocent people, and then he had killed Edison. And if anything was to be done, Olivia knew that she could not let him get away with that. Serving Hollis his dues for Edison's murder was absolutely essential – no questions, no hesitation, she needed to do it. Olivia stood up and ran a hand through her hair. She exhaled loudly to calm herself down, and then walked past the couch, making her way to the small desk at the front of her office for a box of tissues. She had just walked past the door when suddenly, it was as though she were falling from some great height. The puddle of water on the floor from Hollis's umbrella found itself directly under the sole of Olivia's heel and in a matter of seconds she was falling forward. The lines of the floor boards speeding towards Olivia's face made her shoot out her arms to break her fall, but it wasn't the floor that came first. The mud brown wood of the small desk at the front of her office flashed before her eyes and in an instant, pain seared white-hot across her skull, and then everything went black.

x X x

"_Olivia?" _

"_Olivia!"_

There were moving shapes…cloudy and colorful…

"_Olivia! Can you hear me?!"_

"_Call 911!"_

A yellow light was shining somewhere, and there were sounds…muffled and unrecognizable….

"_Ma'am can you hear me? Ma'am what's your name?"_

More colors and more shapes….

"_Ok, calm down. What happened?"_

"_I, I don't know, we just heard this sound and –,"_

"_Ma'am, I need you to answer me. Where are you right now?"_

The yellow light had dimmed….

"_Ok, she's responding to verbal."_

"_Airway's clear! She's not maintaining. Wheel around the stretcher!"_

"_And on three! One…two…three!"_


	24. Fooled Around and Fell in Love

"This," Cyrus exclaimed, handing back to Olivia the notes she had drafted for the upcoming State of the Union address, "is _exactly _what I'm talking about."

Olivia grinned broadly, taking back the piece of paper and slipping it into a large manila folder.

"Thank you. I tweaked the college tuition section a bit."

"I saw that," Cyrus noted approvingly, "much better than the original part we had planned where he would kind of be going off on some weird tangent."

"The State of the Union is on the ninth, which means we have twenty days to get it done and get it perfect."

"Ha! That's more than enough time!" Cyrus proclaimed.

He reclined in his large, leather chair and laced his fingers together behind his head. He looked around the room proudly.

"Will you just look at this," he said gleefully, "look at where we are right now. You are standing in my office; you are standing in the office of the Chief of Staff to President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. Isn't this amazing?

Olivia nodded and smiled, looking around with Cyrus. She took in the sheer elegance and history of the room.

"We did it," he muttered.

Olivia felt an annoying twinge of guilt.

"Yes, we did. We did do it," she quietly agreed.

Cyrus stood up.

"I passed the Vice President on the way into my office and boy did she look great. I am going to love reminding her how we devoured her in South Carolina. At least for the first few months."

"You are going to want her on your team Cy, for real. Her position as vice president is nothing but a tremendous boost for Fitz's administration. Even when we crushed her in South Carolina, she had a whopping 73% of women voters under her belt. You're going to need her."

Cyrus grumbled, and Olivia laughed and put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Don't stress over it," she laughed, "look around – you're Chief of Staff to a brilliant president. Make appointments, book meetings, and then find some time to help me with the final revision for this State of the Union address."

"He's in the Oval right now," Cyrus said, "you want me to bring that to him?"

Olivia's heart jumped. She looked up.

"He is? No, that's okay. I'll do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Olivia smiled, "stop wasting time – you have a staff waiting for their chief."

Cyrus grinned and threw up his hands in mock defeat. Olivia bid him adieu with a quick brush on the cheek, and then she left his office. Outside of his door, she bit at her bottom lip, trying to fight the telling smile that was playing at her lips. She could practically hear her heart scrambling around in her chest as her excitement began to build; a heady, focused fervor laced with desire. Last night was the celebration of a stupendous victory for everyone involved: Fitz had delivered his inauguration speech to thousands at the Capitol at noon, made a quick appearance at the parade, held his usual mid-afternoon lunches, and then went to four inaugural balls, all of which Olivia had politely declined to attend. As she walked down the hall to the Oval Office, keeping her pace slow, she remembered the excitement she felt when he called her and asked her to meet him in that very same room. She had gone, all the while reminding herself that it was a bad idea, and before she could hardly even get a word out, he had her pressed against his chest; one hand splayed across her abdomen, and the other cupping her breast. And then in seconds, she was his – perched on the edge of his desk, holding him between her legs, guiding her thighs towards the hand that reached up her dress and slid her panties to the ground. Every single second was still fresh, firing up goose bumps on Olivia's skin as she walked through the halls of The White House – from his hands at the back of her neck, tilting her head up, to the feel of his brass belt buckle as she quickly unhooked it from around his waist….

Olivia stopped at the door of the Oval Office and took a calming breath. She pressed her hand against her stomach in a weak attempt to try to quell the nervous butterflies and the loud, eager pounding of her heart against her ribs. She held onto the doorknob, bit her lips in excitement, and then pushed it open. Fitz was sitting on his chair at his desk with his eyes closed, and sitting on his lap, was Mellie. Her fingers were gingerly cupping his jaw as her lips were seemingly frozen on his. Startled, the two broke apart and turned to see Olivia, whose stomach had plummeted to the ground, dragging her heart along with it. Fitz cleared his throat and Mellie brought her hands to the base of her throat.

"I am so sorry," Olivia said quickly. "I should have knocked."

She couldn't help it – her eyes were drawn to Fitz, who had his head down, determinedly.

"No, no! You are absolutely fine, Liv," Mellie assured her nonchalantly, "we were just…feeling a little exuberant. Can you believe this?"

She hopped off of Fitz's lap, brimming with happiness, and gestured around the Oval Office.

"We are standing in the _Oval Office_. I don't think I can get enough of saying that Fitz, can you?" Mellie asked, walking towards Olivia.

Fitz looked up at Mellie, keeping his eyes away from Olivia, who was standing in the middle of the room.

"Nope, I can't either," he said quietly.

Olivia looked down at her fingers, feeling stupid. He purposely wasn't looking at her, and she had walked down the hall to see him. She had declined Cyrus's request to drop off the State of Union address himself all so that she could come and see him and…_and what?_ Olivia thought to herself. _What did you think was going to happen when you got here? _

"Is that the State of the Union address?" Mellie suddenly asked excitedly.

Olivia jumped back to attention.

"Yes, it is. I was just making some corrections."

"This is going to be wonderful," Mellie said, clasping her hands together. "I don't know if I say this enough Olivia, but thank you_ so much_ for being here for Fitz – for all of us really. We could not have done it without you, you know that. You have been such a valuable asset to this campaign and to us as a friend, and I – Fitz and I – we sincerely thank you for it. Half the stuff around here could not have been done if it weren't for you. I don't think we would have slept a day if you hadn't come along. In fact, we loved you so much that we want – I'm sorry, we _need_ you to stay here with us," Mellie paused. "We want you to take a permanent position as Director of Communications."

Olivia looked up, genuinely shocked. Mellie's face was bright with hope and enthusiasm.

"Oh Mellie, wow. I…I don't know what to say. I am so honored, but –,"

"Then say yes," Mellie urged. "Please."

Olivia sighed to herself and looked over at Fitz, who was looking at her now – finally. Even with Mellie in the room and even with the many feet separating them, she could tell what he was thinking behind those cool blue eyes. Shaken by the intensity of his stare, Olivia shifted her attention back to Mellie.

"Yes," Olivia said finally.

Mellie pressed her hands together excitedly.

"Off the record," Olivia said quickly, "but yes."

Mellie leaned in and pulled Olivia into an unexpected and tight hug.

"You are simply a godsend."

She let go and held Olivia at arm's length. Olivia could only smile back faintly, acutely aware of Fitz's eyes on her.

"Oh," Mellie said with a hint of embarrassment, "I'm sorry. I'm in the way of all this amazing State of the Union planning. Please, do your thing. And thank you, again. For everything."

Mellie held Olivia's gaze for a minute and then left the room, closing the door behind her. Olivia looked down at the manila folder in her hands; all of sudden she was feeling strangely awkward and uncomfortable. Mellie's presence in the Oval Office wasn't what she had been expecting, and now she felt like the outlier.

"Congratulations," Fitz said suddenly, standing up, "on your new post. The White House welcomes you to the team."

Olivia looked up to see him walking towards her. Underneath his white shirt, she could just barely make out the rolling of his muscles as he moved closer to her, slowly and purposefully with hands stuffed deep into his pockets. His eyes were traveling swiftly up and down her body.

"Thank you," she said stiffly.

"There's an upcoming trip to the National Archives…you want to join me?"

Olivia glared at him. _Is that all he had to say?_ She thought. How could he stand there, talking to her about National Archives when she had just walked in on his wife sitting cozily in his lap… jumping up out of respect for privacy and not out of fear of being caught…holding his face and getting to kiss him…. Sadness and a horrible anger that made her feel sick with guilt stirred inside Olivia. Fitz was scrutinizing her carefully as she tried to keep her face expressionless.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know you were coming by. Cyrus didn't tell me you were here. She just came in and sat down and –,"

"Stop," Olivia interrupted. "Don't apologize to me. She is your _wife_; she can sit in your lap anytime she wants. So stop apologizing."

"So that was okay with you then? You came in here and you were totally fine with that? So the next time Mellie is in here and she's sitting on my lap, you're going to be okay with that? You have no qualms? You don't care?"

"No. You are _married_!" Olivia hissed. "You are the President of the United States as of twenty-seven hours ago. I am not _supposed_ to care."

"But you do. Don't deny it Olivia. I fell in love with you and I am in love with you, so trying to tell me it doesn't matter to you when I know the truth is pointless, and a waste of my time, frankly."

'_I am in love with you'…_the words rolled of Fitz's tongue and sent Olivia's stomach somersaulting. He had said those words to her before, but there was no end in sight for the way they made her feel.

"We were on your _desk_ in this room last night," Olivia said, her throat thick with emotion. "You were holding me and you –,"

But Fitz held up a hand to stop her, looking concerned.

"What?" she asked.

He walked towards the far end of the Oval Office, against the rounded wall and beckoned her over. Confused, Olivia followed until they were both standing against the wall, inches away from each other's faces.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"There's a camera. Right up there," Fitz pointed directly at the ceiling above the seal carpet.

Olivia jerked her head up towards the ceiling and. Her heart beat nervously against the front of her throat.

"There's a camera in the Oval Office?"

"Yes."

"This whole time?"

"Apparently. Tom told me this morning on our fake run to scare off the leader of China."

"Tom told you?" she asked slowly. "Why would he tell you that?"

Fitz was quiet for a minute, assessing the rising panic he detected in Olivia's voice.

"Every morning a Secret Service agent either archives or erases the files from the tape of the night before. Tom was on duty last night, but he erased everything."

Olivia stared up at Fitz's face in horror. _Of course there are cameras, how could you be so stupid?_ She reprimanded herself. Images of their night before flashed across Olivia's brain again, but this time they were accompanied by the nauseatingly panicked feeling that someone had seen everything…Fitz's lips making their way down her dress…her legs gripping his thighs…the final unhook of her bra….

"I have to go," Olivia said suddenly.

"Livvy, stop. Don't go please," Fitz moaned. "It's okay. I'm not going to let anything happen."

Olivia pressed the manila folder containing the State of the Union address against Fitz's chest. He caught it and held it there. She cleared her throat.

"I made some revisions to the bullet point topics we want to address. Tell Cyrus what you think and he'll let me know. I have to go."

But before she could turn around, Fitz had caught her by her waist and had pulled her in towards him. She had hardly taken a surprised breath before she felt his tongue slip into her mouth –familiar, right, and achingly wonderful. Forgetting and lost in the moment, Olivia kissed him back, letting her body mold into his. And then her senses came back to her and she pulled away. Fitz watched her back off, and she looked at the floor, unable to stomach the heartbreak and longing on his face.

"Please look over those revisions and let Cyrus know what you think. Thank you Mr. President," Olivia said formally.

She swung open the door and before she let it slam shut, she heard him call out her name…

"Olivia!"

x X x

"Olivia? Ms. Pope?" said an unfamiliar voice. It was soft and reassuring.

Olivia blinked her eyes open and peered around. She felt unnaturally tired and unsure as to why her eyes were even closed in the first place. Standing in front of her was a young woman with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. She was looking at Olivia with a concerned expression. Hovering behind her stood a worried looking Quinn, Abby, and Harrison. It took Olivia a few seconds before she realized that she was lying in a strange bed covered with a white blanket. A needle was taped to her right arm, and her left arm was up in a sling, essentially immobile. Olivia sat up to try to get a better look, and a dull headache shot across her forehead, sending her into a dizzy tailspin. She lay back down.

"What…what is going on?" Olivia asked in a voice that sounded lazy and exhausted, and nothing like her own.

"Ms. Pope, I'm Dr. Meredith Grey. You're at The George Washington University Hospital. Do you remember at all what happened? Do you know how you might have gotten here?"

"I fell. I just remember slipping and falling and hitting my head."

"Good," Dr. Grey smiled. "Good, that's exactly what your friends told us."

"We were so worried!" Abby chimed in, sounding as though she hadn't spoken in days.

"You just fell, Olivia," Quinn added, "we just heard this loud sound and you were on the ground and…" she trailed off.

"Huck is getting you Campbell's tomato," Harrison chipped in.

Dr. Grey turned to Quinn, Abby, and Harrison.

"If you guys don't mind, I'm going to need to go over Ms. Pope's injuries with her privately. You can just have a seat in the waiting room and I'll let you know when you can see her again."

Quinn, Abby, and Harrison nodded and left. Dr. Grey turned back to Olivia.

"From the way they described the sound of your fall, it seemed like you took quite a spill. But, there weren't any obvious significant injuries other than that wrist of yours, which we're going to need to get an X-Ray of – it has "fracture" written all over it. And then we're going to need to do an MRI to make sure there's no internal bleeding or hemorrhaging in the brain from your fall."

"Okay," Olivia said, not able to make out any more.

"Ms. Pope. Before we get going with those two," Dr. Grey began, scribbling something on a clipboard, "were you aware that you're pregnant?"

**Oh crap! What a ride. Hollis proves that he can be just as big a force to be reckoned with as Olivia, the ante is upped, and now our fixer is pregnant?! Whoa. There was so much chaos in these two chapters that they were a complete joy to write. I'm so glad that Olivia is planning on taking down Hollis, and that she finally let herself feel real sadness over Edison's death. As mean as he was the last time we saw him, they did have something special together at one point, and he really didn't deserve to die. I'm hoping Olivia finds a way to bring Hollis down and bring justice to Edison's grieving family. Oh, and I am just loving Shonda Rhimes so much (although her crazy good ideas scare me every week – you just never know with her genius) that I just had to throw in a tiny bit of Grey's :). I seriously can't wait to see what these next few chapters bring. PLEASE, PLEEEEASE let me know what you guys are thinking in a beautiful and oh-so-welcome review down below (go ahead, don't be shy). And THANK YOU for sticking by this story and making it an even bigger joy to write. **


	25. Landslide

It was as though every breath Olivia had ever taken over the course of her entire lifetime had been knocked out of her, hard. A strange, hot tingling spread through her body, as did a nasty wave of nausea.

"_What?_" Olivia breathed.

She stared at Dr. Grey, hoping for her to admit that she was joking, or that she even had the wrong patient. But instead, Dr. Grey simply smiled back at her and pulled a pen out from the top of her clipboard.

"Usually, when a patient comes in and requires an X-ray or any other radiology technology, we request that they first inform the attending physician or a technician if they're pregnant. You were too disoriented for normal questioning, so we ran a blood test to check. So, congratulations."

She pulled a silver flashlight from the pocket of her white coat, and shined it in Olivia's eyes; then she scribbled on the clipboard clutched in her hand.

"Do you have any history of falls, seizures? Any family history of epilepsy?" she asked.

Olivia shook her head, hardly knowing what questions she was even answering at. Her heart was racing around the inside of her ribcage asDr. Grey's words echoed around her skull: _"were you aware that you're pregnant?" No, _Olivia thought, _no…no, oh my god, no…she's wrong, I can't be pregnant. _A breathless lightheadedness was taking over, and Dr. Grey's face transformed into a hazy, blonde blur with any and every quick movement. Olivia put her hand to her head to touch her forehead and a sharp pain shot across her forehead. She winced and a gasp escaped her.

"You're responding to pain," Dr. Grey said, still smiling, "that's good."

"No," Olivia gurgled. "I'm not pregnant. It could be stress…maybe your tests are wrong. Maybe you're seeing something else, but…"

Olivia trailed off and held her stomach, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

Dr. Grey surveyed Olivia quietly for a moment, and then she slipped her clipboard underneath her arm.

"Quantitative blood tests like the one we used are the most accurate for detecting pregnancy because they determine the actual level of the pregnancy hormone, hCG. Your hCG levels were elevated at 5 mIU, which indicates that you probably conceived around seven to ten days ago."

Immediately, Olivia racked her memory: _today is…the twenty-eighth? No, yesterday was the twenty-eighth, Memorial Day. Which means that ten days ago was the nineteenth…and on the nineteenth I met with Edison at Cobb's Café._ Olivia's heart began to race as Edison's face swam to the front of her mind…but she stopped. She hadn't been with Edison that night. And then it hit her – three days later, seven days ago, she was on the phone with Cyrus when Tom and Hal showed up ready to put up a fight to take her to Camp David – with Fitz. Suddenly, the nausea became all too much to take, and Olivia sat up immediately, leaned over the short metal railing to her right, and vomited spectacularly onto the white tiles of the hospital floor.

Dr. Grey opened up the door to Olivia's room and shouted for a nurse and mop. Then she reached for the phone on the wall, dialed a number, and hung up.

"We're going to get you into an MRI now, so our head of neuro will be in here in just a few moments to bring you down."

Olivia nodded and closed her eyes, letting Dr. Grey's news wash over her. Her disorientation had passed, but her heart was quickly sinking, as was her disbelief. In the hospital bed, the mounting fear – unparalleled and unlike anything she had ever felt before – wrapped itself around her mind and her body**, **and sent a reel of images flashing right before her eyes: her and Fitz going at each other against the walls of the Aspen Lodge…her tongue down his throat…his head between her legs…the grip of her hand on his shoulder as she positioned himself before her…. _This is not happening, this is not happening…._

The door to Olivia's hospital room suddenly opened and a handsome doctor walked in accompanied by two nurses, one of them with a mop in tow. He took the clipboard from Dr. Grey and quickly scanned it before turning his attention to Olivia.

"Olivia Pope? Good evening, I'm Dr. Shepherd. I'm going to be taking you down for your MRI to get a quick look at your brain, which should take no more forty-five minutes. And then we'll get you into an X-ray room where one of our orthopedic residents will check your wrist so we can get you out of here. But before that, I just need to do a quick neurological exam to test your balance, your senses…all that good stuff. Sound good?"

Olivia nodded.

Dr. Shepherd turned to Dr. Grey, "Find Torres and tell her we'll need her in an hour."

Dr. Grey left the room, and Olivia went through Dr. Shepherd's quick neurological exam to his utmost satisfaction. The shock had rendered Olivia essentially immobile as she was wheeled into the MRI room, and then from there, to the X-Ray room where a female doctor who introduced herself as Dr. Torres explained the procedure. But Olivia wasn't even listening to her. She was numb to everything and anything else, and she hardly even realized when she was being wheeled back into her room, where Dr. Grey was waiting, flanked by a very pale Quinn, Huck, Abby, and Harrison.

"Is she going to be okay?" Quinn blurted out, sounding terrified. "I mean, it was just like…a _really_ loud sound."

"She is going to be just fine," Dr. Grey assured Quinn before turning back to Olivia."Your motor skills, balance, senses, and mental acuity all are great, and your MRI showed no bleeding in or outside of the brain, and no hemorrhaging, which is excellent. So with the nausea, dizziness, and disorientation, you're just dealing with a mild concussion. Basically, when you fell, your brain jarred forward. So, the dizziness and nausea should wear off in a few hours, but you're probably going to have a headache for a few days. But if anything worsens or persists for more than three weeks, come back in and let us know. And as for your X-rays, they showed a fracture to the distal radius bone of your wrist. But luckily, your bone is in the correct place to heal, so Dr. Torres is just going to cast it without resetting – and that should last for about six weeks. For pain management, you can take ibuprofen, which will help with both the wrist and headaches if they persist. But definitely get a lot of rest until your symptoms clear – daytime, nighttime, anytime. That's what you're going to need the most. As for tonight though, is there someone that you live with? A boyfriend or a roommate perhaps?"

"No," she answered flatly, staring straight ahead at the blinds on the window of her hospital room door.

She was unthinking and unfeeling, hardly registering that Dr. Torres was wrapping her arm.

"Is there anyone who can check on you to wake you up every few hours tonight? As a precaution, concussion patients should be monitored to make sure that they're able to be woken to full consciousness," Dr. Grey informed her.

Olivia didn't answer.

"I'll do it!" Quinn offered. "I'll stay with you Olivia, and wake you."

Absentmindedly, Olivia agreed and waited for Dr. Torres to finish the cast – it was white and simple. When she was finished, Dr. Grey asked Quinn and the rest to leave, before turning back to Olivia.

"If you want Ms. Pope, I can make you an appointment to see one of our OBs. You can come back in the morning or you can make an appointment for sometime later this week?"

Olivia looked up at Dr. Grey. She was a nice doctor who certainly was not lost on the fact that Olivia was utterly shocked. Olivia took a deep breath and shook her head.

"No. No thank you."

Dr. Grey nodded sympathetically, "Ok, then you're free to get dressed while I discharge you."

She left the room and Olivia hurriedly dressed, wanting nothing more than to get out of the hospital as quickly as she could. By the time she and Quinn left the building and bid goodbye to Huck, Harrison, and Abby in front of the lobby Starbucks, it was one in the morning, and Quinn was motherly ushering Olivia into a cab outside of the Foggy Bottom-GWU metro station. Throughout the cab ride through downtown D.C, Olivia was entirely silent, and unfeelingly ignored Quinn's feeble attempts at conversation.

When they finally returned to her apartment, she quickly dropped her things at the door and hurried into the bathroom, leaving a worried Quinn confused and motionless by her couch. In the solitude of her bathroom, Olivia slowly undressed, turned on the shower, and then after a long mirror-fogging minute, she finally stepped inside the bath right under the stream of hot water. She stood in the middle and let the steady comforting pulses of water massage her back and her chest and neck. Her nausea had gone, but her headache was still there, and the bruise on her forehead was throbbing just as painfully as her swollen wrist. Renewed panic seized Olivia, and her heart, tight with anxiety, was beating aggressively against her chest. She closed her eyes and willed in vain, that she was living a dream;that she was back in her office at Pope & Associates with no fractured wrist, no concussion, and no Dr. Grey. Olivia bit her lip** – **she was pregnant and it was Fitz's child…she was pregnant with the child of a man who was married and who already had two children of his own…she was pregnant with the child of the President of the United States… …she was pregnant with the most powerful man on earth…the most publicly scrutinized and the most liable – the Commander-in-Chief. She was pregnant with the child of someone with whom she could never be, and who could never claim her as his own. Olivia pictured herself in three months with a growing stomach and swollen ankles and almost laughed at the ridiculous image, but she was quickly sobered by the questions that raced through her mind: why hadn't she and Fitz been more careful? Why did she go to Camp David? What was she going to do now? Would she have to quit her work? How would she explain this to people? How would she explain this to Fitz? What would he say to her? Would he be angry with her? What would people say once they found out? And what would happen if it grew up…would it know its father? Would she keep it a secret? Would people accept it or would it be ridiculed because of her? Would she have to move? Where would they live? Or what would happen if she didn't keep it at all? She would never even have to leave… and then Fitz would never know at all….

When it was that she started crying, Olivia did not know, as the tears had already mixed with the shower water and they both poured down her face. "I can't do this…I can't do this…I can't, I can't do it," Olivia muttered quietly to herself, hearing the way her tears and her panic cripple her own voice.

There was a loud knock on the door.

"Olivia? Are you okay in there?" Quinn asked with poorly masked worry.

Olivia shut her eyes tight and turned off the shower, "I'm fine!" she called back.

"If you need anything, I'm here!"

Oliviastepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She rubbed away the steam on the bathroom mirror, and for the first time since last night, Olivia saw herself: her eyes were red and puffy from crying and sheer exhaustion, and on her forehead above her right eyebrow was an awful-looking bright reddish-pink and purple bruise. She touched it carefully, and sucked in a sharp breath at the fresh jolt of pain. Olivia turned to the side, took a deep breath, and let the towel drop to her feet. Although she looked exactly the same as she did yesterday, the small hope that Dr. Grey had been wrong seemed unlikely. Olivia ran her fingers underneath her belly button and up her abdomen, trying to picture a child growing inside. What did it look like now? How small was it? Olivia pictured a tiny ball, like a pink pea who had gotten lost from its pod, stuck to her insides; trapped and growing. Could it know that it was growing inside of her? Olivia closed her eyes and stilled, trying to see if she could feel something different. She bit her lip, forcing herself not to cry again – she knew that Quinn was waiting outside. She dried herself off, got dressed and then crawled into bed, letting her headache force her out of her thoughts and into sleep.

x X x

Had Quinn not been following Dr. Grey's orders, Olivia might have strangled her. She had woken Olivia three times during the night and by eleven the next morning, Olivia could hardly keep her eyes open. Like Dr. Grey predicted, the headache was stubborn and unyielding, and so far, everything was certainly much more complicated with the cast on her arm. Olivia opened up her fridge and was suddenly faced with a question she had never had to face before – _what can't I eat?_ She thought. She settled on a cup of decaffeinated coffee, too nervous still to keep anything down. Quinn was moving around her kitchen timidly, as though afraid making any sudden movements or sounds would send Olivia dropping to the floor.

"Quinn, it's okay. You don't have to worry about me."

"I'm sorry, I just…hospitals freak me out. I went out this morning and I got you ibuprofen, ice packs, and these tension tamer teas my mom swears by."

Olivia smiled graciously at Quinn, who she couldn't help but notice was standing in the middle of her kitchen, completely unburdened and entirely not pregnant.

"Thank you," she said, "you're sweet but you don't have to do this. I am fine. Trust me."

Olivia smiled reassuringly, amazed at ease of her lie. A muffled vibrating sounded from somewhere and Olivia fished her phone out of her purse – "CYRUS".

"Cy?"

"Tell me you're not saving some nut-job governor from his own self-induced demise."

"Not at the moment, why?"

"I need to get down here. Six reporters, and two federal police just got cleared through The White House gates."

Olivia's heart jolted, "I'm coming now."


	26. A New Day Yesterday

It was a little before noon by the time Olivia jumped out of the cab on Pennsylvania Avenue, and breezed through the walls of The White House. She swept past the Grand Staircase and down Cross Hall before bumping into Hal, who was standing outside the Oval Office.

"Good morning Hal, is Cyrus in there?"

"He's in the Cabinet Room Ms. Pope," Hal answered, nodding to the room on the right.

Olivia nodded and opened the door with her uninjured right hand. Inside the room at the far end of the long wooden table, stood Cyrus and Fitz, over a distressed-looking Mellie, who was the only one seated. As the door opened, all three turned around and their mouths dropped. It was Mellie who spoke first.

"Oh my _goodness_. What _happened _to you? Are you okay?" she asked, looking horrified.

It took Olivia a moment before she remembered that she was currently decorated with a severe-looking white cast and a heavily bruised forehead.

"I'm fine," Olivia said, embarrassed.

"You don't look fine," Cyrus added, sounding suspicious.

Olivia ignored him. She had been in the Cabinet Room for no longer than a few seconds, and already she was all too aware of the heat that was quickly making its way to her cheeks. The moment she had opened the door, her eyes had unwillingly made their way to Fitz. He was wearing something different: jeans and a black polo shirt. Although they caught each other's gaze for a moment, Olivia could hardly look at him in the eye, knowing what she knew now. She wondered if he could somehow sense it in her; if he thought she looked different. She made to look away, but it was Fitz who broke eye contact first and let his eyes travel up and down her body before settling on the bruise above her eyebrow.

"What the hell happened, Liv?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Really, I'm okay. Don't worry about me," Olivia said, brushing him off.

"You're not okay," Fitz insisted; his face was full of concern.

Mellie shook her head before sighing loudly.

"You look like you've just been trampled at a parade Olivia," she remarked.

"I appreciate the concern, but everything is_ fine _okay? But what happened here? Have you guys talked to anyone? Has anyone come in to see you?" Olivia asked, quickly changing the subject.

From the corner of her eye, Olivia could see that Fitz had still not taken his eyes off of her. She adjusted her purse self-consciously.

"No," Mellie answered immediately.

"And the press? I didn't hear anything this morning or on my way over."

"They're being discreet. It's not a formal or official investigation. They're just here collecting facts," Cyrus informed.

Olivia nodded, "No one speaks to anyone. I don't care if it's informal or unofficial; you are not to say _anything_. Don't express your sorrow, your surprise, your disgust – nothing."

"Did you speak to Mr. Doyle?" Cyrus asked Olivia.

"I did."

"And?"

"And I'm handling it," Olivia said simply.

In truth, since her fall, Olivia hadn't once thought about Hollis Doyle.

There was a soft knock the on the door.

"What?" Cyrus called.

The door hesitantly opened and Paulette Pitcher stuck her head inside, "Excuse me, I'm sorry. Ma'am, it's Isaac."

Mellie excused herself and left the room, leaving Olivia, Cyrus, and Fitz standing.

Cyrus snorted derisively, "And to think, I thought Amanda Tanner was the peak…I was wrong, boy was I wrong."

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and held it up to his ear, "Cyrus Beene?"

And with a hand, he signaled to Olivia and Fitz that he would just be a moment, and then he left the room. Once the door had closed behind Cyrus, Olivia bit at her lip nervously. Standing alone in a room with him wasn't the same. Fitz turned to Olivia immediately, his face that of mingled fear and worry.

"Oh Livvy, what happened to you?" he asked, his tone soft and broken.

"Nothing, it's just a fractured wrist and a concussion," Olivia said simply.

"What?" Fitz breathed, "when did this happen? Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"Call you and tell you what? To come and meet me at the hospital? To leave The White House and hop in a motorcade to come and sit with your mistress at her hospital bed?"

Fitz stared at her for a moment; his expression was as though she had just slapped him.

"That was out of line, and you know it," he said quietly.

Embarrassed and confused at the antagonism in her voice, Olivia looked at the red rug beneath her feet.

"I'm sorry, but it's just really not that big of a deal. People get concussions all the time."

"You mean people I don't care about; people who aren't you. You make it sound like I wouldn't come. You think I wouldn't come to see you Olivia?"

"You're not supposed to come, that's my point."

"So then four months ago, if you were not the first person I called when I woke up – you wouldn't be hurt?" Fitz prompted.

"That's different."

"It's not at all different. You are not okay. You are hurt and you have a concussion and a fractured wrist. You shouldn't even be here right now. Didn't the doctors tell you that you're supposed to rest? What hospital did you even go to anyway where they don't even teach you how to treat a concussion?"

"They told me everything I needed to know, and I know how to take care of myself."

"So are you even going to at least tell _me_ what happened then, or even _when_ this happened? Do I at least get that much?" Fitz asked, sounding angry and impatient now.

"After I met with Hollis, I –,"

"Did he do this to you?" Fitz demanded.

"No!" Olivia stammered, "no, he didn't do anything to me. I slipped and I fell. I fell and I hit my head and then I passed out and woke up at The George Washington University Hospital."

"So you were right down the street…and you didn't even call me."

Olivia didn't respond; her headache had kicked in with extra strength.

_What would you have said to him anyway?_ She thought. The sadness and obvious hurt deeply embedded in Fitz's voice tugged mercilessly at Olivia's heart, which was already worn and spent. She held his gaze, trying to wordlessly tell him that she was sorry. Fitz walked over towards her and stayed where she was, letting him close the distance between them, and when he was only inches away, he reached up and brought his thumb to her forehead. Olivia closed her eyes expecting pain, but his touch was gentle. In his hands, he held her casted arm and was silent. His head was bent so Olivia couldn't read his face, but in that moment as he held her arm, she almost wanted to grab him and tell him; she wanted him to hold her against his chest and she almost wanted to upend everything that he had going for him in this room, for a chance…. Fitz looked back up at her and rubbed his knuckles against her cheek, melting everything inside of her. His eyes – the coolest and softest blue – arrested her. And then slowly and carefully, he kissed her on the lips, and Olivia felt a swooping sensation at the bottom of her stomach. _Do you feel it too Pea?_

The door to the Cabinet Room swung open and Cyrus, fresh off a phone call, burst in. Olivia and Fitz sprung apart.

"Oh Christ," Cyrus said exasperatedly.

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked, alarmed.

"Where is she?" Cyrus growled.

"Who? Cyrus what is going on?"

Cyrus took a deep breath and pointed a finger accusingly at Fitz, "You wanted your out, you got your. You should have kept your wife on a tighter leash, Fitz. You should have kept her from _screwing_ things up – again!"

"Oh, give me a break Cyrus. What the hell are you even talking about?" Fitz asked, annoyed.

"As of twenty minutes ago, Isaac just became public knowledge."


	27. Got Me Under Pressure

"_What?_" Olivia asked for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

As if right on cue, her headache stretched itself painfully across her forehead and pressed firmly against her temples. Olivia grit her teeth against the pain.

"Exactly what I said is exactly what I mean," Cyrus said irritably.

"Says who? Where are you even getting this information?"

"Our bewildered Press Secretary, Linda Prewett", just called me asking what we plan on having her do about this fax she just received. So I asked her to send it over to me and isn't it just beautiful?"

Cyrus cleared and his throat, and from the inside of his jacket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Olivia. It was clearly printed from a website with various blue and purple hyperlinks. But highlighted in the middle of the page, read one in large, bold purple letters – "SOURCES REVEAL 'AMERICA'S BABY' IS FRAUD?" Olivia's heart raced, and she could feel Fitz reading over her shoulder.

"Who else knows?"

"Did you not just hear me say public knowledge Olivia? Public as in you, as in me, as in the gatekeeper downstairs, as in the policeman who roams Pennsylvania Ave., as in soon to be Gertrude the 78-year-old Washington D.C. native who goes to Whole Foods everyday to pick up organic granola bars for her grandchildren! In short, Isaac Fitzgerald Grant is about as private as the DNC's taped Watergate conversations."

Cyrus looked over at Fitz, who was looking at the ground.

"Great," he snorted, "absolutely friggin' fantastic. He's not even listening. His wife's love child is making headlines before he can even take a first step and he is all of a sudden interested in carpet threading! Do you know what means Mr. President?"

Olivia backed away from Fitz, who was either ignoring Cyrus, or was sincerely not listening.

"Excuse me, both of you."

She backed away from Fitz and brushed past a winded and angry Cyrus. Outside of the Cabinet Room now, Olivia walked the halls of The White House. On her way past the Grand Staircase for the second time that morning, she bumped into Paulette.

"Where is The First Lady?" she asked.

"She's in the Queen's Sitting Room, Ms. Pope."

"Thank you."

"Ms. Pope, The First Lady is occupied, she –,"

"Thank you," Olivia repeated firmly, and turned her back on a hopeless-looking Paulette.

Despite the many times she roamed the halls of The White House, its expansiveness and many rooms still proved to be somewhat of a maze to Olivia. The Queen's Sitting Room was one room she had certainly never visited, and she finally found it tucked away in the far northeast corner on the second floor of The White House. The door was closed, and Olivia knocked.

"Yes?" Mellie's voice rang from the other side.

"Mellie, it's Olivia."

There was a long, pregnant pause before the gold handle turned and the door opened just wide enough for Mellie to poke her head out.

"Yes?"

"We need to talk."

"I'm busy right now; the nurse is on break and I am _busy_."

"_We need to talk_ _now,_ _Mellie_."

Mellie narrowed her eyes, and then finally opened the door to let Olivia walk in. The room was certainly beautifully and attentively decorated with thick, billowing curtains, antique poufs and chintz chairs, and ornately sculpted ceiling trims. The walls were a deep shade of wine red, and a French ormolu chandelier hung attractively from the ceiling, illuminating the room in a flattering refracted light. But it was the farthest side of the Queen's Sitting Room, next to the fireplace that caught Olivia's eye. There was a wooden crib, rich with a deep, dark brown and standing on intricately crafted legs. Through the rungs, Olivia saw Isaac for the first time. He was in the midst of what looked like the most peaceful slumber, and he was taking deep even breaths. She marveled at his minuteness – from the small socks that covered his feet to his tiny hands that were balled into fists. He looked so innocent and blissfully ignorant of all that was going on around him.

"Olivia?"

Olivia jumped back to attention; Mellie was watching her carefully.

"Honestly, you do not look okay. Are you sure you don't need to leave? Go home? Get some rest? Cover that bruise?"

"How does he know?" Olivia asked as soon as the door closed behind her, ignoring Mellie's thinly veiled affront.

"I'm sorry, how does who know what?"

"How does Hollis Doyle know about Isaac?"

Mellie's face blanched.

"What?"

"I asked you to do exactly as I tell you and nothing more and nothing else. So I am telling you to tell me how it is that Hollis Doyle knows about Isaac."

Mellie brought her hand to her forehead and slumped down into the closest chintz chair.

"He overheard an argument between Chris and myself at the state dinner last September."

"He knew even when Fitz didn't?" Olivia asked, surprised. "He has known all this time and you didn't think to tell me this? Once you become my client you need to be comfortable with the idea of full disclosure."

"It wasn't relevant."

Olivia stopped short of once again telling Mellie that she shouldn't have fully trusted Hollis in the first place, but she bit her tongue – she would be beating a dead horse and now was not the time.

"Isaac is public knowledge, the press is finding out, and it will be just a matter of _hours_ until the American people find out too. They're just rumors now, until proven wrong or right, but the only match for the spread of wildfire is talk. And right now, people are starting to talk."

Mellie opened her mouth in surprise, and then shook her head disbelievingly.

"What is this? What are you saying Olivia?"

"Cyrus just got a phone call and this fax from the Press Secretary," Olivia said.

She pulled out the fax that Cyrus had given her and handed it to Mellie. She watched as Mellie's eyes quickly eyes scanned over it. Her chest rose slowly with a deep breath, and then without looking at Olivia, she handed the fax back.

"You think Hollis did this?" She asked.

"I _know_ Hollis did this. He mentioned it to me yesterday when we spoke."

Mellie didn't answer and only nodded. Her gaze traveled to the window, absentminded and distant.

"Mellie, I know that Isaac is your son and I know that this must be awful for you and that you must be scared and confused and lost. And I know it doesn't feel like Fitz is in your corner, but you_ need to pull it together_."

Mellie turned back to Olivia, and when she spoke, her voice was harsh.

"So what am I going to do? What are you going to do? You said you would handle him."

"And I am," Olivia said defensively.

"Well clearly you didn't come out the victor, because you are standing in front of me with a cast and a banged up forehead and now, my _son,_" Mellie said raising her voice, "a public spectacle. Now this is a real problem. So do not try to tell me that you know how it must feel and that I need pull it together when Hollis Doyle is still out there, and you still haven't done your job."

Olivia stepped back, shocked at Mellie's unwarranted anger.

"My _job_ was to protect you from him, not to cover up your indiscretions."

"You're right, it's not. But apparently it is my job to cover up yours."

Olivia flushed. She straightened herself and looked directly at Mellie, who was glaring back at her.

"The reality is that no one is going to let you get away with this without saying something. People are going to want to hear what you have to say, they're going to want answers, they're going to want a public statement, and they're going to want to hear you speak. So you need to decide what you want to do Mellie; you need to figure out how you're going to play with the cards that you've dealt yourself. And I am telling you right now that you have only two options: you own it or you deny it."

Mellie was quiet.

"If you want to sit here that's fine, but know that your that time to decide is limited. You can inform Mr. President and his Chief of Staff that I've gone for the day."

Without looking back at Mellie, Olivia left the room and down the grand staircase and leaves the white house. Once she was outside and beyond the gates, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

"Yes?"

"Huck, when you told me you got rid of everything from Defiance, what did you mean?"

"I meant everything. Memory cards, pictures, everything."

"So if I needed to find information about who was involved in the election rigging of Defiance County, Ohio, then what would happen?"

"Then I'd say, 'what election rigging'?"

"Perfect."

x X x

In a reluctant attempt to follow doctor's orders, Olivia left The White House and returned not to Pope & Associates, but back to her apartment, where her aches and pains left her with no choice but to relax for the rest of the day. But by the time night fell, she was feeling restless and unnervingly alienated from the rest of the world. She opened up a bottle of ibuprofen and downed one with a large glass of seltzer water. Her injuries, while still painful, were becoming nothing more than a nuisance. Olivia turned off the lamp at her bedside table, letting darkness – save for the blue light from her television – swallow the room whole. The eleven o' clock news was halfway through its run, and thankfully, there had been no news reports yet about The First Lady. In the midst of the monotone hum of the news, Olivia's house phone rang.She took a deep breath and then answered.

"What if I was sleeping?"

"Isn't that the point? To not let you sleep after you have a concussion?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay, now you're just starting to sound like a broken record," Fitz teased.

Olivia smiled, "Well then maybe you should stop playing it."

On the other end, Fitz was quiet for a minute. Olivia listened to his slow breathing on the other end, and without even thinking about it, she rested her hand atop her stomach and imagined him sitting at his desk in the Oval, staring down at the South Lawn, with the phone barely touching his lips.

"You left today without saying anything," Fitz said heavily.

"I was busy. I'm still busy."

"You have a concussion and a broken wrist, you shouldn't be busy."

"It's fractured," Olivia reasoned.

"That nuance of an injury isn't going to stop me from calling every night until I know that you're better."

"Senator Davis is still suspiciously dead, Hollis Doyle is still wreaking havoc with every step he takes across this district, Cyrus has probably gone through a good bottle of scotch, and your wife is probably burning holes in the carpet from pacing. You don't need to worry about me too."

"When you walked into the Cabinet Room today, I was scared. So I want to worry about you; I _need_ to worry about you," Fitz said, his voice low.

The intensity and earnestness of his voice and his words held Olivia's breath captive, and sent the familiar fluttering sensation through her stomach. She crawled deep underneath her comforter.

"By tomorrow, I'll have Hollis Doyle in a corner, but Mellie…she's not going to come out of this totally unscathed, you know. And she's going to need the full support of The White House," Olivia said, trying to change the subject.

"Mm," Fitz said, disinterested, "well, it's hard to pity the fool. Mellie is smarter than that, she should have made sure that she could come out of this with no evidence."

Olivia closed her eyes, unsure of what to make from Fitz's words. Would she, Olivia, come out of not totally unscathed just like Mellie? Had she and Fitz not been smart enough just like Mellie and Christopher Bissell? Would he think that she should have been smarter? Or would he be happy for them both?

"Livvy?" Fitz asked, breaking Olivia out of her spiraling thoughts.

"Yes? I'm still here," Olivia breathed.

"Why aren't you here? Why am I not there? I miss you."

"You saw me eleven hours ago."

"So? And you left before I could even sign your cast."

Olivia laughed, and before she could stifle it, a yawn slipped out.

"I should let you go to sleep, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah, you should."

"Goodnight Olivia," Fitz said quietly.

Olivia clutched the phone in her hand and listened to him wait for her. Then she hung up and closed her eyes.


	28. Well All Right

Despite the mundane the eleven o' clock news the night before, by the next day in the early morning, every news station statewide had caught wind of Isaac Fitzgerald Grant. Years of trudging through media outlet frenzy and public speculation taught Olivia to be unfazed by the speed at which news could break and subsequently diffuse, but the story of "America's Baby" spread outrageously so fast. It circulated every television channel, every news station, every online newspaper, and it was surely being rushed to paper press to make every newspaper headline by tomorrow's daybreak. Olivia sat in her office chair at Pope & Associates and stared at her muted television. She had gotten to the building early that morning and had locked herself in her office as soon as she thought back to her brief conversation with Mellie the day before. Her pity for The First Lady could only extend so far, but it was the image of Isaac, asleep and ingenuous in his crib, that grated terribly at the back of Olivia's mind. His life, not even months old, was already being unfairly and insensitively tossed about and scrutinized. Olivia took a deep breath and stepped out of her office.

"Uh…Olivia – have you seen this?" Abby asked as soon as Olivia emerged.

She pointed at the television with the remote.

"…_There has just been an almost unbelievable whirlwind of events surrounding the district these past few days Mark, and unfortunately none of them are favorable."_

"_That is seriously quite the understatement, Judy. In the middle of the already shocking news surrounding the Capitol with regard to Senator Edison Davis's death, new allegations have surfaced now concerning The First Lady, President Grant, and their son Isaac Fitzgerald. Rumors of infidelity on the part of The First Lady have started making their way around, and this would not be the first time."_

"_That's right,"_Judy noted, _"two years ago in the middle of President Grant's campaign, similar reports did surface, but they were immediately debunked by the then Governor Grant himself. As of now, there has been no comment yet from The White House Press Secretary, but various media outlets are reporting that President Grant is not the father of 'America's Baby'."_

Olivia turned away from the television and poured herself a cup of water.

"Yes, I did," she said simply.

Abby gaped at her.

"Well isn't this a big deal? Our client is caught up in the middle of the death of a U.S. Senator and now she's being accused of cheating on the President and giving birth to an illegitimate child?"

"It's a _huge_ deal," Olivia agreed, "but right now, that's not our angle and that's not where we need to be focused. Right now, our biggest concern is Hollis Doyle."

"Is that why he was here last night? Because he's our concern again?" Quinn asked angrily.

Huck coughed pointedly, and Quinn held her tongue.

Olivia ignored her, "Abby, Harrison – I need you to check all airlines, commercial and private, make sure he has no flights anytime this week or next. Check to see if he has his a private plane. I need to make sure he's staying in this district, which means if you find an Amtrak ticket, a Greyhound ticket, anything – let me know."

"What do you need me to do?" Quinn asked.

"I need you to not be emotionally involved, so I want you to sit this one out. I'll be back when I'm back. I'm heading to see Lisa," Olivia said, grabbing her purse.

"The full-lipped blonde Stephen always sweet-talked into disclosure?" Abby asked with shabbily concealed annoyance.

"The very same."

Olivia head out the double doors of Pope & Associates, and caught the elevator heading down to the lobby. Once outside, on the sidewalk, she hailed a cab and fifteen minutes later, it pulled up in front of a morbid-looking, red brick building. Olivia walked inside and head to the second floor to the Office of the Medical Examiner. She knocked on the door and it opened to reveal a surprised-looking Lisa.

"Olivia! I haven't seen you in forever, which means this can't be good," Lisa said knowingly.

"I wish I didn't have to come here just for this, but I need a copy of the new information on Senator Davis's autopsy," Olivia said.

"Olivia, I've worked with you a long time and I have always appreciated the fine line that you so gracefully navigate, but this is a _federal _case; I can't just give up information to you when it's not even public yet."

"He was my boyfriend," Olivia admitted, "he was my fiancé, and he has a family out there who is unjustly in the dark. I just want the information. That's all."

Lisa looked surprised and surveyed Olivia sympathetically. She looked at the door behind Olivia and then sighed.

"Fine," she finally conceded, "follow me. But you owe me."

She led her down a dimly lit hallway with whitewashed, sterile-looking walls. They ended up in what looked like a cramped office space and from a tall, gray file cabinet, Lisa pulled out a thick red folder.

"My reports combined with the forensic lab's," she proclaimed, handing them to Olivia.

Olivia flipped through the many sheets of paper; repeating words like "TOD", "Seneca Creek State Park", and "questionable" jumped out at her. She swallowed and handed the thick folder back to Lisa.

"What does all this say?"

"Well," Lisa started, "the Senator was found at Seneca Creek State Park, where nearly everyone he knows has said he's known to go for a run. And based on the timestamp of the 911 phone call that the medical team received, he was found at around ten the morning of Sunday, May 20. And from looking at the medical team's notes on the state of his body when he was found, his postmortem lividity and rigor mortis puts him time of death at around seven that morning."

"Okay, so what does that mean? The news reports did say he was found sometime during the mid-morning," Olivia said, confused.

"Right. So ideally, we're looking at a scene where Senator Davis goes for a run at say six-thirty, falls and dies at seven, and then is found around three hours later by some terrified passerby. But…upon further examination, that's impossible."

"How?"

"Senator Davis's lividity indicated that his time of death was around seven that morning, but at that time that day, the outside temperature was around forty-three degrees with forty-six percent humidity. So with that type of temperature reading – even three hours later – his body wouldn't have been at the temperature it was when they found him. He was way too cool for the environment, even with a three hour delay."

Olivia nodded slowly, taking all of this in.

"That was our first tip off," Lisa continued, "which then led our forensics lab to find _this_."

She pulled out a blue sheet of paper with incomprehensible jottings and jargon.

"At an early enough time like 7am, and on a humid enough morning like that of May 20, dew forms all over surfaces like grass, trees, plants – all of which are in abundance, especially in a woodsy, grassy area like Seneca Creek State Park. But neither Senator Davis's body, nor his clothes, nor his shoes had any dew, which means his body didn't even touch the ground – at least not at seven in the morning."

Olivia listened with baited breath, waiting for Lisa to continue.

"And when we ran the whole routine," Lisa said, pointing to scribbled notes, "his toxicology report came back negative, until we realized that it was catching small traces of M8-B."

"What is that? What does it do?"

"It decreases core body temperature by blocking receptors that initiate normal human thermoregulatory defenses so as to induce therapeutic hypothermia."

"So what does that mean for his time of death?"

"With the impossibility of his body temperature, the presence of M8-B, and the lack of environmental evidence, there's no way he died at seven that morning. The postmortem pinprick that we found on his right arm suggests that he was administered M8-B right at the time of death, and as a result, his body temperature rapidly decreased, but way too much to be possible. So based on that, his _actual_ time of death falls somewhere between ten and twelve," Lisa explained. "Someone killed Senator Edison Davis moments before calling police, and set it up to make it look like it happened hours ago."

Olivia nodded and took a deep breath, remembering meeting with Mellie and bumping into Fitz just before nine that morning.

"Where would you get M8-B?" she asked.

"Do you have the free time to take a trip to Arizona? It's an experimental drug used on lab rats that hasn't gained F.D.A approval."

"How much do you think it would cost?"

"I'm not an expert so don't quote me, but it'll run you at least two grand," Lisa mused.

Olivia nodded distractedly and looked at the thick pile of paper, stuffed haphazardly into the red folder – evidence, doubt, and details about Edison's death stared back up at her. She closed the folder and smiled at Lisa, who was watching her sadly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't you two were..." Lisa trailed off.

"That's okay. Thank you," Olivia replied graciously.

Olivia waited for Lisa to photocopy the contents of the folder, before she bid her a quick goodbye and left her office. Once she was back outside, she pulled out her phone and dialed Huck's number.

"Do you still have Hollis's card number on file from Becky?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I need you to go through it again thoroughly right now while I'm on the phone. I need to see what went in and out the morning of Sunday, May 20. Hollis isn't stupid, if he paid Becky to frame you, he paid someone to do this. Look for any transactions two grand or above, and match it with transaction that looks like a foreign bank, or related to anything medical."

"Doing it right now."

Olivia breezed through the streets of downtown Washington, D.C. and stopped in front of a Starbucks as she waited for Huck to find something.

"Got something," he said after a minute.

"What is it?"

"There's a charge for five-thousand, two-hundred and eighty-four dollars – posted the next day, Monday, May 21. It's from a _Lawson BioGroup Corporation._"

"Address?" Olivia asked.

"1331 Massachusetts Avenue NW, 3rd floor, Suite 106," Huck said after a beat.

"Okay, meet me there in twenty minutes, and bring the ID."

x X x

Exactly nineteen minutes later, Huck and Olivia were standing before an impressive-looking gray stone building with large, gold numbers – 1331 – drilled into the heavy glass entrance doors.

"Did you bring everything?" Olivia asked.

Huck nodded, "Of course."

"Okay then, let's go."

With Olivia leading the way, the two of them entered the building, and took the stairs to the third floor. Standing at the receptionist desk of Suite 106 was a wiry-looking male with a messy head of black hair and thin-rimmed glasses.

"Welcome to Lawson BioGroup Corp., I'm Arthur, how can I help you?"

"Arthur, we're looking to corroborate one of my client's 'experimental' purchases. He's asked to make sure that the records are still available," Olivia said motioning to Huck, who stood silently at her right.

Arthur's eyes widened as he nodded his understanding.

"Of course," he looked around, "just follow me into one of our private offices?"

He led Huck and Olivia into a closed cubicle with translucent walls. He closed the door behind them and sat behind a computer.

"Do you have a government-issued form of identity sir? It's company policy."

Olivia looked at Huck, and out of the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a Washington, D.C. driver's license. The license photo, which was unmistakably a photo of Huck, sat to the left – the license name, 'HOLLIS M. DOYLE, to the right.

"Doyle, Hollis?" Arthur asked.

Huck nodded.

Arthur looked up at him to verify the picture on the license, squinted at his computer screen, and then looked back.

"Okay Mr. Doyle, our database shows that you made an over-the-phone purchase for three thousand at 9:54am on Sunday, May 20, and that you paid an extra…two thousand to have it urgently expedited."

"What was the name of the purchase?" Huck asked.

"It was a 30oz bottle of M8-B, sir."

Olivia's heart leapt forward and she looked at Huck, who kept his eyes steadily on Arthur.

"Is there anything else I can help you with Mr. Doyle?" Arthur asked, handing Huck his false identification.

"Could you print that purchase record for me please?"

"Not a problem Mr. Doyle."

He printed three sheets of purchase records, wished Huck and Olivia return business before the two of them their way down the stairs of 1331 Massachusetts Ave. NW, Olivia felt her phone ring in her purse. She pulled it out – "ABBY".

"Tell me he's not getting on a plane to the Dominican Republic right now."

"Nope," Abby said gleefully, "even better. Thank Huck for leaving everything up and open on his computer, because all of Hollis Doyle's transactions are on the computer screen right now."

"And?"

"_And_…as of two and a half minutes ago, he was just billed for a sixty dollar meal at the Smith & Wollensky on 19th St. I seriously hope he got the Oscar Style filet mignon."

"Perfect."

Olivia hung up the phone. Her heart was beating anxiously – this was it. She had everything that she needed to connect Hollis to Edison's death, and all that was left was to give everything to the right people; to let the right people see it. She pulled out the copy of Edison's autopsy report and gave it to Huck.

"I need you to bring these to the J. Edgar Hoover Building. I need you to drop them off, as surreptitiously as possible. Don't be seen by too many people, don't be remembered – and then leave," she said to Huck.

"And then what?"

"And then," Olivia sighed, "everything will be handled."

**Okay, seriously – it's time I start writing alongside Shonda because I couldn't believe that when Fitz told Olivia to wait for him this past episode, she said, "I'll think about it" – which is exactly what I had her say in a similar conversation in Chapter 16! So weird and cool! But as for this Olivia – what a mess! Between juggling her own pregnancy, and having to deal with an angry Mellie and a poor Isaac, it's a wonder that she finally found a way to give Hollis what he deserved, as it was well overdue. I am in agreement with Fitz that she's working too hard, and speaking of – I really hope she tells him soon. Olivia is a fixer, but this is definitely one thing she can't do on her own. Leave a review below and thanks a BUNCH for reading.  
**

***sage0010: As for your review – I actually used to go to college in downtown Washington, D.C. a couple blocks from The White House, so I know that area pretty well. :) **


	29. Somebody to Love

"…_yes Tom, we are still looking into the story that broke last night six hours after an absolutely surprising arrest was made. CEO and founder of Doyle Energy, Hollis Doyle, was taken into custody mid-afternoon on his way out of the Smith & Wollensky Steakhouse on I Street…"_

"…_autopsy record for Senator Edison Davis, among other information, was anonymously dropped at FBI headquarters at the J. Edgar Hoover Building approximately two hours before the arrest was…"_

"…_details concerning the arrest are not yet clear but sources are suggesting that Doyle is a prime suspect in the death of Senator Edison Davis, which has officially been ruled as homicidal after…"_

"…_there has been no word yet from the Capitol, but…" _

Since yesterday evening, hours after Huck left Edison's autopsy and Hollis's purchase records at the J. Edgar Hoover Building, the news was playing a ceaseless loop of information.Hollis Doyle's arrest and its possible connection to Edison Davis's murder was inundating headlines, and Olivia, with the help of all at Pope & Associates, had spent all morning closely following the breaking story and making sure that no extraneous and incriminating details found their way back into existence. By the late afternoon, everything seemed in the clear, and Olivia excused herself from the conference room and walked into her office. Once she had closed the door behind her, she opened up her laptop and stared at the phone number on her open browser. With a deep breath, she boldly grabbed her cell phone on her desk and dialed before she had a chance to rethink. A receptionist answered.

"Office of Dr. Sehrawat?" Her voice was silky and practiced.

Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but she found that her voice was caught in her throat.

"Hello?" the receptionist asked.

"I'm calling to schedule an appointment with Dr. Sehrawat," Olivia rushed, jumbling her words together nervously.

"Okay. Reason for your visit?"

Olivia paused – _what do I say?_ _I'm pregnant? I just found out that I have a baby? I can make murder scenes look like the aftermath of an innocent book club meeting, but now I'm carrying the child of the President of the United States and I have no idea what to do?_

"It's my first prenatal appointment," she said finally.

"Okay, and with whom am I speaking?"

"Olivia Pope," Olivia said.

"Ms. Pope, how far along are you?"

"About two weeks."

"And is this your first prenatal appointment? Have you seen an obstetrician since you found out you were pregnant?"

"No," Olivia murmured, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

"Ok…how does Tuesday the fifth at two o' clock sound?"

"That sounds good," Olivia agreed, feeling the all too familiar quickening pace of her heart.

"Good. I have you down for two on the fifth, and just make sure to arrive fifteen minutes before your appointment to fill out new patient paperwork, and bring your insurance card with you."

Olivia hung up the phone and leaned into the back of her chair. She looked down at her stomach, covered in a gray silk chiffon blouse and closed her eyes. _This is real_, she thought to herself, _you just made an appointment with a doctor – this is real. You're doing this and you don't know why; you're doing this and you don't know what's going to happen but you're still doing this._ For some reason, she was smiling as her mind traveled down the road months from now – how long would it take until she started showing? How long before people noticed? Would other mothers be able to tell before anyone else?

A knock on Olivia's door stirred her out of her thoughts, and Harrison poked his head inside.

"Olivia?" he said cautiously.

"Yes?"

"Your client is here – it's The First Lady."

Olivia closed her laptop and sat up, "What?"

She stepped outside of her office and sure enough – flanked by three Secret Service agents she did not recognize – stood Mellie.

"Thank you Harrison," Olivia said, escorting Mellie inside her office.

Mellie closed the door behind her and turned to Olivia.

"You arrested him," she said quietly.

"I did," Olivia confirmed.

"And what makes you so sure he won't bring us down with him? Defiance happened, unless you're telling me you somehow gave him amnesia."

"There are no memory cards, there are no rigged machines – so I really don't what you're talking about Mellie – Defiance never happened. He's gone."

Mellie paused with a raised eyebrow and looked around Olivia's office.

"So this is where you work? It's…it's not like what I expected."

"Did you come here for something Mellie? You're endangering yourself by being here, not to mention everyone in this building, even with –"

"I'm owning it. I won't deny it," Mellie announced.

Shocked, Olivia looked at Mellie, whose face was serious and unblinking. She sat down in her chair and Mellie followed suit – sitting in the couch across from her, her eyes never leaving Olivia's face.

"You're really going to do this?" Olivia questioned.

Mellie nodded matter-of-factly.

"Mellie – are you sure? Are you absolutely positive that you want this?"

Mellie let out a small laugh and played with the large white diamond wedding ring on her finger. She exhaled tiredly and clasped her hands together.

"He had a rash a couple of days ago – right on his cheek, his left one. At first it was just kind of red, but then there were these tiny bumps by the next morning…and you'd think that with two children in experience, I wouldn't be so freaked out. And people get rashes all the time, right? But I almost lost it. I made a zillion appointments with pediatric dermatologists…I called Dr. Drysdale every hour for a new referral. I mean...it must have been leftover 'pregnancy brain' or something playing tricks on me because I felt like I was going crazy. It turned out…it was normal," Mellie finished lamely.

Her eyes fell on Olivia's desk and Olivia studied her nervously, taken aback by the Mellie who was sitting before her – somber and unnaturally unguarded.

"I was so nervous. I had to fire Bonnie because I didn't want anyone around him; I made all my staff carry hand sanitizer with them; I changed my clothes at least four times a day. You know when they talk about 'helicopter parents'? I was like the 'drone parent', the 'military aircraft parent', I swear," Mellie rolled her eyes. "Sometimes Fitz will walk right past him and he won't say anything and I just think…how _awful_. How awful it must be for him not to get to enjoy this with me. I guess that's my fault, obviously, but he would have loved it. He and I were…we were parents of two babies, we were _overly_-involved PTA members…we were partners."

Olivia sat motionless and quiet at her desk. Mellie was still not looking at her, but she still couldn't help but feel an uncomfortable shame wash over her, as though she had intruded onto something of which she was never meant to be privy. But Mellie did not seem to want an answer, because she took a deep, quivering breath and continued.

"When we were living in Santa Barbara, we lived in this really spectacular Spanish colonial. It had these _beautiful_ windows, and a sunroom that was definitely to-die-for. And then one day, we were out in the backyard and he said to me, 'I'm going to run for President' – and I thought he was kidding," she laughed.

Mellie looked up at the ceiling with a small smile playing at her lips, clearly lost in reminiscence.

"I thought he was just coming off this political Governor high. But then five months later we were campaigning and I could _see_ it – I could see us in The White House. We brainstormed late into the night together, we worked together; we designed T-shirts together. I was there for the whole thing, I was there when he decided he wanted to be Commander-in-Chief, I was there at the primaries, the caucuses…I was there to change his jacket and get him a glass of water…I was there to call him out on his _awful_ ideas. Fitz has always been somewhat of a dreamer, and somewhere down the road, he thought I was a bit more ambitious than he liked. And then one day, it stopped and he started telling me that I was 'interfering'. And then you came."

Mellie paused and looked at Olivia, who mustered every ounce of strength to not look away. The atmosphere of the room had dug up long-dismissed guilt, but she kept her eyes on Mellie, whose expression was puzzlingly curious.

"You came straight on the heels of Cyrus Beene, and you were the encourager and the _fixer_. You told him to keep his chin up and you practically built the road to victory – well nearly. So I should have seen it coming, right?He always wanted your opinion, he always needed to hear what you thought about this and about _that_…bills could not be passed and shirts could not be worn if Olivia Pope didn't bestow her approval," Mellie said quietly."So I should have seen it coming. I should have seen that he was gone before Cyrus even hired you. You were just the final nail in the coffin of Fitzgerald and Millicent Grant. Thankfully I had already secured my seat in The White House as The First Lady, but I won't lie to you Olivia – it stung. It stung to know that I was essentially a figure, an image. And you might think that the worst was that he was lying in bed next to me but it was like I wasn't even there. Or you might think that the worst was that he had to fight tooth and nail to keep his eyes off of you whenever you entered a room."

As raw and forthright as Mellie's words were, it was her tone that struck Olivia the most. Absent was the jeering and accusatory note so characteristic of their interactions, and instead, in its place was a hint of resignation.Olivia looked down at her fingers, awkwardly.

"Mellie…" she started, not knowing what she could even say.

"_That _wasn't the worst. The worst was that I had nothing left to offer. I was a lawyer, and a damn good one and now, I'm just…how did he put it? Oh right…_ornamental_. But I got over it. I wanted to be here and that's what I got. I wanted what I got and in a sense – everyone was getting what they wanted too. It was a win-win-win, no? And then Chris came along and I won't bother you with the details but he thinks this is a bad idea; he thinks I should just keep it quiet. It will ruin him of course, and me, and it will ruin Fitz too, you know? It will be the ugly mark on his squeaky clean Republican family values image. A love child in The White House? What terrible, unfortunate, and sinful circumstances. People will question the clearness of his judgment, his emotional state…and I know how hard you work to keep his halo shining, Olivia."

Olivia bit her bottom lip as Mellie's words brazenly spoke the very thoughts she was afraid to truly acknowledge…_a love child in The White House?_ Mellie took a deep breath and patted at the immaculate French twist at the back of her head. When she spoke again, her voice was steady and bold.

"But while it has taken me a minimum of three hours to plan a state dinner, I spent a total of thirty-four hours this week alone on rash-duty. I spent six hours hovering over the shoulder of the carpenter to make sure that he finished Isaac's second crib to perfection. And I spent two hours replacing everything he owns with its hypoallergenic alternative. Fitz has you and you have him, I know that; I have _known_ that. But neither of you know what this is like, neither of you know what it feels like to start to actually _like_ the smell of formula the way I do, neither of you know what it feels like to spend nine months waiting to meet someone you already know, and neither of you know what it's like to imagine that there is a potential soccer star or football punter or whatever inside you. So you might be afraid to stain Fitzgerald's amazing legacy with a newborn, and you might be afraid to take the risk but when you ask _me_ if I'm absolutely sure, that answer will always be yes. So don't ask me again."

Mellie pursed her lips and regarded Olivia coolly. For some reason, even amidst the haughtiness and contempt, Olivia wanted to tell her. She wanted to tell Mellie that she was wrong – Olivia _would_ know what she was talking about. _I have one now_, she thought sadly to herself, _a little pink Pea_; she felt terribly alone and conflicted. But bizarrely, as The First Lady sat defiantly and expectantly in front of her, Olivia felt that though she had no idea, they were more alike in this room than they had ever been.

Olivia straightened up and nodded, "Okay, let's get started then."


	30. Nothing Else Matters

Even over the next couple of days, the strange aftertaste of Mellie's arrival at Pope & Associates still lingered with Olivia. She had never seen Mellie that way before, andalthough she had ultimately decided that it was a rare moment never to be witnessed again, she could not help but feel sorry for her. She wondered what Fitz was thinking and whether or not Mellie had told him what she was planning to of the characteristic stifling heat of a Washington, D.C. summer were clear as June had arrived and dried up all of May's rain. And by the time Tuesday, June fifth made its ambivalently anticipated appearance, Olivia was feigning calm better than had gone about her workday as normal, and at half past one o' clock, she left the office and head to K Street, where she quickly hurried inside the OBGYN building. The appointment was lengthy and exhausting, and on her way back, Olivia could hardly think at Pope & Associates hours later in the late afternoon, Quinn, Huck, Abby, and Harrison were running through ideas about their newest client: a well-known philanthropist who's wife overdosed days after he discovered that she was orchestrating her very own underground prostitution ring. As her associates ran through the details, Olivia was hardly listening. Dr. Sehrawat's words from her appointment were running through her mind, mingling with the conversation going on right before her…

"_Olivia Pope?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Good afternoon, I'm the obstetrician, Dr. Sehrawat. Karen says this is your first visit with an obstetrician?"…_

"He was a stay-at-home dad, and she was the breadwinner but she hardly left the house? He never questioned where she got the money for his new stereo system? His new golf clubs?" Quinn mused.

"I'm not buying it," Harrison offered his disbelief…

"_Do you know the date of your last menstrual cycle?"_

"_The eighth of May."_

"_So that means you conceived on…the twenty-second. Does that date sound familiar to you?"…_

"He keeps telling us he never met any of her…escorts, but look – he has _five_ calls to this cell phone number, which belongs to…Missy Lovelace?"

"Ms. Watson only hired her two months ago, you think she got cold feet and told her husband?"

"But why tell him?"…

"_So that will put your estimated due date at…the twelfth of February, next year 2013..."_

"You think he banged one of his wife's whores?"

"I think he had plenty of hours to do whatever he pleased before killing his wife. I don't know. This is getting more and more messed up. What do you think Olivia?"…

"_So I'm going to ask you a lot of questions about your family medical history. And the child's father? Is he involved, or do you know anything about his family's medical history?"..._

"Olivia?"

Startled, Olivia jumped back to attention and looked up at everyone; all were watching with horrified concern.

"Are you feeling disoriented still? I thought that was supposed to be gone by now?" Abby asked, fearfully.

Olivia backed away from the desk.

"No, I'm fine."

No one looked convinced. Olivia shook her shoulders and straightened up.

"Mr. Watson is boldfaced lying to our faces," she said confidently, "his wife disgusted and embarrassed him, and he cares too much about hypocrisy, so he's not going to screw one of her employees. His alibi is frighteningly weak despite the clean and upstanding reputation he's holding onto for dear life. So my gut tells me that this was murder and that he's using Missy Lovelace – born Judith Bryant – as a cover because she's scared, she's young, and she's impressionable. Unfortunately for him, Missy is used to seeking authority, so if the cops find her, he's done for. So someone call him and tell him to tell us the whole truth, otherwise we're not working for him anymore. And then – you can all go home."

And with that, Olivia grabbed her purse and headed out the doors, leaving everyone shocked.

x X x

Later that evening, Olivia was multi-tasking as usual: juggling watching a recording of news specials on Hollis Doyle's arrest while sketching out a rough outline for Mellie's public statement. Inthe middle of a thought, the doorbell suddenly rang and irritated, Olivia got up from the couch and walked to the door. She looked through the peephole and her eye was met with an unmistakable flag pin.

Olivia's heart jumped and quickly, she opened the door. Fitz was standing outside, fully dressed in a jacket and tie, and her leaning against the frame of her doorway. She opened her mouth to weakly protest his appearance, but before she could say anything, his lips were on hers and his hands were cradling her face in a way that rendered her weak and ravenous, and oblivious to everything around her. They stayed that way for a moment, and then Fitz dropped his hands to her waist, pressed his forehead carefully onto her own, and whispered against her lips.

"I'm already here," he breathed, "so please don't tell me I shouldn't be."

Lost for words and thoughts, Olivia could only look at the soft lines of his lips. Fitz stepped into her apartment, forcing her backwards, and then closed the door behind him. It took Olivia a few moments to realize that he had settled into her couch and was watching the recordings of Hollis Doyle's arrest**.**

"You've done it again," he said, smiling at her, "But I'm not surprised."

Olivia sat down on the couch and smiled back.

"Hollis Doyle had it coming; he was going to ruin everything and everyone except himself."

Fitz sighed. He took Olivia's cast-free right hand and held it in his own, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She scooted closer to him on the couch until her knees were pressed against his thigh.

"How's your forehead?"

Self-consciously, Olivia brought her left hand up to her bruise.

"It's better, it doesn't hurt that much. It's yellow now, so I guess that's a good thing."

"I like it, yellow has always suited you," Fitz teased. "But you work too much. Handling this buffoon, and then my wife…which you won't have to worry about anymore."

Olivia looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean, why?"

"I'm going to divorce her."

Olivia paused. She had imagined him saying those words to her a thousand times, but now in this moment – she didn't know what to say. She wanted to curl up against him and bury her head into his arms, but she was afraid.

"You can't divorce The First Lady, Fitz," Olivia said finally, as though it were common sense.

"Watch me," Fitz challenged.

"You can't do that. Mellie made a mistake, but people will think you'll forgive her. The American people will want you to forgive her."

"Olivia…" Fitz said slowly, "she produced offspring with someone who isn't her husband. I think that's grounds for divorce. I think the American people will understand."

"Mellie messed up and what she did was damaging to your image, but it's not irreversible. I've been writing up a speech for her and calculating popularity numbers and all day and divorcing her isn't going to help you. You can fix this and you can save the image of your administration if you just stand by her, even if it's –,"

"No," Fitz interrupted.

He rubbed at his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger in exasperation.

"Fitz…" Olivia started cautiously.

"No…no, _no_!" Fitz shouted suddenly.

Olivia jumped back and quickly pulled her hand out of his. Angrily, she opened her mouth to speak but Fitz held up a hand and sat up in the couch.

"Don't, don't say anything because damn it Olivia – enough is enough! You are, without a shadow of a doubt, the most amazing person I know, and I have listened to you and I have learned from you and when I doubted myself, you were there. But this time – I don't give a damn about how amazing you are. I let you tell me that I shouldn't come to your apartment, I let you tell me that you needed to move on, I let you tell me that I shouldn't worry about you, I let you tell me that I shouldn't have come to you when you were lying in a _hospital bed_, hurt and injured, and I let you tell me that I should stick by Mellie when she called Hollis and screwed up – _royally_. But this…no way in hell, because you are dead wrong, Olivia. I will _not_ let you tell me that I shouldn't do this. I will not sit here on your couch and let this go on anymore. I'm not going to continue to let you be afraid of this. Stop being so scared Olivia! Stop being so afraid of what may or may not happen! And stop using my presidency as an excuse to hide behind and own up to the fact that we are this together and that _nothing else matters_. Jesus Olivia, I am _so sick and tired_ of you standing in front of me and telling me time and time again that we can't do this. I am so damn sick of you trying to talk to yourself out of it because you're just too scared. So don't tell me I shouldn't divorce Mellie, and don't tell me that she and I should stick together because that's not what you want! I stand by _you_ and I watch _you_ so I too know what you want and that's not what you want, Olivia! That is _NOT_ what you want! So stop being so damn afraid to have what you want, and stop trying to drag me into it because guess what? I'm not afraid, and I'm not scared because this – you and me – that's what I want. So tell me right here and right now and we can have it. Tell me that that is what you want and I'll make it happen. Tell me."

Staggered, Olivia stared at Fitz. Underneath his jacket, she could see his chest rising with every tired breath, and she kept her gaze there as the sadness and frustration in his own was too much for her to bear. The anger in his voice had frightened her, but not as much as the desperation that coated every word. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand again; she wanted to grab him and tell him she wanted that too, that that was all that she thought about, that she had picked out imaginary bibs and baby nail clippers, and that all she wanted was to be with him. She opened her mouth and then like a taunt, Mellie's words came back to her, _"…it will ruin Fitz too, you know? …A love child in The White House? What terrible, unfortunate, and sinful circumstances."_ Olivia took a deep breath and bit her lips, pushing the image of Fitz – completely and utterly disgraced – out of her mind. She looked up at him sitting across from her, and he was looking back at her, expectantly. Then after a few moments of, his shoulders drooped in defeat and he looked up at the ceiling. When he finally looked back at her, his eyes were watery and she swallowed…_please, please don't cry Fitz_.

"I love you," she whispered, grappling for the one thing she knew to be sure.

The lameness of her own words stung her, and as if to add salt to the wound, Fitz let out a dry and angry laugh. He got up from the couch, and walked to the door. And then with one last look at Olivia, he opened it and left. Numb to even the harsh slam of the door, Olivia closed her eyes, curled against a cushion, and cried.

**I almost wanted to tear up at the end of these two chapters! Mellie has always proven herself to be power-hungry, even irrationally so, but I could not help but sympathize with her. And I don't know who I feel more awful for – Fitz, who just can't seem to get Olivia on his side – or Olivia, who can't bring herself to tell him probably the best news of his life. I really felt for the two of them here, and I hope that Olivia eventually comes around and comes forth. "Olitz" is, after all, meant to be, so have faith and don't be too mad at her! Do you think Fitz was too harsh on her or do you think he was justified? Did you feel badly for Mellie, or at least a little less hostile towards her? :) PLEASE, PLEASE review below! You guys are awesome for reading and telling me what you think.  
**


	31. Free Fallin'

It was just past three in the afternoon, and Olivia was sitting at her kitchen table in a pair of gray lounge pants and a loose-fitting tank top; before her sat piles of papers, a cold mug of coffee, and an empty coffee pot. The silence of her apartment pressed against her ears, as stared at anewspaper clipping.However many hours had passed since Olivia lay curled up on her couch, she did not know because she had not once bothered to check the time. And whosoever might have called her cell phone multiple times, she did not know either because she had turned it off long after she accepted that he wasn't going to call. After Fitz had gone, Olivia had cried until she had fallen asleep on her couch, and when she woke, her eyelids felt heavy and exhausted.Her hair was a telltale mess,her cast itched, and by the time she finally mustered up enough mental energy to saunter into the shower, she could hear birds chirping outside in the disappearing darkness. Underneath the hot water, Olivia was numb; she thought of Fitz constantly: his face when he was yelling at her, his face when she couldn't come up with anything better to say, his face before he slammed the door, and the drop of her heart when she realized that he wasn't coming back.She was saddened by the sudden emptiness of her apartment, she was angry with herself for allowing her fear and apprehension to settle themselves so comfortably alongside her judgment, and she was embarrassed that everything he had said to her was right. But most of all, Olivia was terrified that he had finally given up and left her; simply tired of pulling her arm, and rightly so.

And so she did what she did best – she maintained that she would push Fitz out of her mind, and she threw herself into her work: she left a voicemail at Pope & Associates informing everyone that wouldn't be coming in today, and with only two days before The First Lady's public statement, she pulled numerous past interviews with scandalized political and celebrity figures from various networks, she looked up background information on Christopher Bissell, she calculated Mellie's popularity ratings, and she kept her ears open to all the news reports (_"…White House Press Secretary is refusing to comment on allegations concerning The First Lady and…" "…there has been no word from the President, nor…" "…The First Lady is expected to give a public statement two days from now…"_). Time had passed unexcitingly, and sometime when a depressing cloud had temporarily hidden the sun, Olivia's house phone rang. Forgetting all that she had set out to disregard and forget, Olivia jumped with excitement – there was only one person who could be calling her.She grabbed the cordless phone from her kitchen counter and held it nervously against her chest before taking a deep breath and putting it up to her ear.

"I thought you weren't going to call," she whispered breathily.

"She answers the phone! So you're not kidnapped? You're not lying in a morgue? So why the _hell_ is your cell phone off?" Cyrus's angry voice boomed over the line.

Cruel disappointment sunk Olivia's hopes, and suddenly everything around her became unbearably irritating, including Cyrus.

"I'm working Cyrus, what do you need?" she asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

She sat back down at her dining room table and perused through the old newspaper cuttings.

"I really hate being the bearer of bad news, but I'm going to need you to get your last visit, your last words, your last hugs and goodbyes in now because until this debacle is over, because I am severely limiting your access to the President."

Olivia paused. She shifted the phone to her shoulder and dropped the flimsy gray cutting.

"Excuse me?"

"The leader of the free world just informed me that he is divorcing The First Lady. Now, I don't know where the President was last night when Tom was occupationally obligated not to tell me, but I know it had something to do with you. Look at the walls around us Olivia – the shit has already hit the fan, and I'm not going to let you traipse in and out and put ideas in his head about divorce – _not a chance in hell_, Olivia."

Olivia sat up straight, completely taken aback.

"Wait a minute…you think I told the President to divorce his wife? You think it was my idea – that I told him to do this? Fitz makes his own decisions Cyrus, he doesn't need me to divorce The First Lady."

"Do I think you blatantly asked him if he signed a prenuptial?No, but there's no getting around this. This _is_ your fault. You parade in and out of here and you are filling his head with fantasies of things that will _never_ happen! He is a married man and he is the President and this is a bad idea. I love you Olivia – you have the tenacity, the shrewdness, and that the no-bullshit attitudethat gets Washington's big men on their feet, but whether you meant to do this or not, this is your fault. And I can't have you screwing around with him and making things worse for _me_ and for him. I have a job to and I can't do it if he's not doing his job because he's too busy trying to pull a practically impossible divorce."

Olivia sat up straighter and pressed the phone against her mouth so that Cyrus couldn't mistake a single word coming out of it, and her hand was shaking with the tension from her grip.

"If you're having problems with your president making decisions on his own, either deal with it, or find a new president because I am not someone to bully. So the next time you think about calling me again to blame me for something you can't handle, you need to think again and then lose this number. Goodbye Cyrus."

"Olivia? Olivia!" Cyrus called.

Fuming, Olivia hung up the phone, and slammed it onto her kitchen table, letting piles and piles of paper flutter to the floor.

x X x

"Olivia? Olivia!" Cyrus yelled angrily into the phone of the Roosevelt Room.

From behind, Fitz could see his shoulders rising up and down as he heaved angrily. He hung up the phone, ran a hand over his head and then turned around. His face was red with anger, and when he noticed Fitz, he drew himself up and cleared his throat.

"Your…_. _Olivia has completely clouded your judgment. "

"What did you just say to her?" Fitz prompted.

He stepped towards Cyrus. He had spent all day and the rest of last night tormented with fleeting regret and smarting anger, and as he walked towards Cyrus, he could hardly mistake the rapid boiling of stifled distress. Cyrus watched him closely until Fitz stopped before him, only a few inches away.

"With all due respect Mr. President, let's not go into this right now. You have a wife who needs the backing of her Commander-in-Chief and her _husband_."

"No, I think we're going to get into it Cyrus. Did you just tell Olivia that this is her fault?"

Cyrus paused. He looked down, and then squared his shoulders confidently before looking back at Fitz, directly in the eye.

"Olivia Pope has got you by your heartstrings, and not in a good way. She is a sweet woman, and God bless her, but she is like a leech sucking the life out of anything that made you want to be president. Do you really think you can just up and leave Mellie? People are mad at her, I _get that_ – but she is your wife for better and for worse, and this is just one of those 'worse' time. I'm sorry Fitz, but Olivia is a danger to your mind and to your presidency and I am just doing my job and calling it as I see fit."

Fitz bowed his head, thinking carefully. And then in a move that surprised even him, he drew back his right arm and struck his fist to Cyrus's jaw. Cyrus stumbled backward as Fitz dropped his arm in astonishing pain. He had never punched anyone before, and it had hurt more than he expected. He shook out his hand as Cyrus caught himself on the edge of the couch. He reached out and tentatively touched his jaw, opening his mouth wide and yawn-like. Fitz stretched out his fingers as the pain hopped back and forth over his knuckles, and on the edge of the couch, Cyrus stared at him – wide-eyed and disbelieving. Neither of them spoke for a moment – both clearly stunned by what Fitz had done.

"Mr. President…" Cyrus eventually said, slowly and carefully.

"When I wanted to go for gun control, what did we do?" Fitz demanded.

Cyrus stretched out his jaw again and propped himself upright.

"Mr. President," he repeated.

"_What did we do?_" Fitz asked again, raising his voice.

"We went for gun control, sir."

"And when I wanted to shut down our death squads and protect our interests in the East Sudan region, what did we do?"

"We shut them down sir," Cyrus said quietly.

"Exactly. And so when I say I want to divorce Mellie, that is exactly what I'm going to do."

Cyrus eyed him warily for a moment, and then he nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"Okay," Fitz repeated, "good. Good."

Then turned around and stepped out of the Roosevelt Room, leaving a bewildered Cyrus standing alone.


	32. I Can't Explain

"So she's admitting it? She's coming clean?" Quinn asked incredulously.

Olivia nodded and poured herself a cup of seltzer.

"So she really did it then? She _actually_ had an affair and _cheated_ on the _President of the United States_?"

"Mhm," Olivia murmured.

It was the next morning, the day before Mellie's public statement, and everyone was standing outside the conference room at Pope & Associates while Mellie and her usual three Secret Service agents sat at the wooden table. After her phone call with Cyrus, Olivia called Mellie's Social Secretary and requested that she meet with her to go over everything that needed to be said, and now she, Huck, Abby, Quinn, and Harrison were watching Mellie through the glass windows.

"And so 'America's Baby' really isn't his?" Abby asked.

"Exactly," Olivia answered.

"Wow…" Harrison whispered.

"She looks so…_calm_. Like she's waiting for a movie to start. Does _she _even know she cheated on the President?" Quinn asked sounding amused.

"She looks guilty," Huck blurted.

"She's not exactly _guilty_," Olivia said.

"She had a baby with someone who is not her husband. That's pretty guilty," Abby mused, "and she didn't want coffee when I offered it to her either. It's eight in the morning – anyone who doesn't want coffee at eight in the morning is guilty."

Olivia watched Mellie for a few more moments before she downed her cup of seltzer, opened up the door and walked into the room. Mellie gave her a tight-lipped smile as she took a seat across from her.

"Do you and your associates always stand there gawking at clients like reservation animals?" she asked.

"Yes," Olivia replied flatly.

Mellie raised her eyebrows and exhaled impatiently as Olivia shuffled through the different folders she had prepared.

"He's not sleeping you know," Mellie said quietly.

Olivia's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her head down and doggedly ignored Mellie's comment.

"I hear him walking around the private study at four in the morning, and pulling things out of bookshelves…" Mellie continued, "it's like I can't say a word to him – he hasn't talked to me in what must be two days now."

Olivia took a deep breath and looked up at Mellie. All of yesterday, she wondered whether Fitz had told Mellie about his plans to divorce her, but Mellie's face wasn't giving anything away. Olivia folded her hands together in front of her and forced the guilty image of a sleepless Fitz out of her mind.

"I spoke to Linda and together we collaborated, and so this," Olivia pushed a piece of paper towards Mellie, "is the final draft of your public statement. We just need you to fill in the blanks with your own words, and then we can adjust it to the final product. And Linda changed the time – instead of in the morning tomorrow, we're going for, mid-evening at seven."

"I specifically told Linda that I wanted to get on and off that podium as soon as daybreak allowed. That woman doesn't know what she's doing, I swear," Mellie said irritably. "She's like the village idiot."

"Well I agree with her. Most people will be home from work and looking forward to the weekend, so you're generally going to be faced with a more positive audience, or at least as positive as they can be."

Mellie pursed her lips and said nothing more, so Olivia continued.

"About an hour before your statement, I'm going to coach you on eye contact, gestures, posturing, and voice inflection. All of these things convey about 75% of your statement and if interpreted incorrectly –,"

"No," Mellie interrupted.

"What?"

"I don't want you to be there before. I just…I want to be there by myself."

"Mellie…are you –," Olivia stopped to choose her words carefully, "you need to be coached. This isn't a convention on homelessness in America."

"I know what this is."

Olivia scrutinized her carefully, and without so much as a blink, Mellie stared back resolutely. Out of the corner of Olivia's eye, she could see the rest of Pope & Associates watching closely from outside the doors.

"Fine," she said, "then keep your hands away from your face and look down when you're pausing, and directly at the crowd when you're talking. And then, I need you to start preparing yourself for life after your public statement. This is just the beginning; this is just the first step. People will listen to your statement and they will go have dinner with their families and eventually they will think about a million other things, but that does not in any way mean that they are going to stop being interested. You will become America's Hester Prynne. The phones will ring off the hook from network programs – NBC Nightly, Dateline NBC, CBS Evening, Nightline, 60 Minutes, 20/20, Frontline – all looking to get exclusive interviews. Your mailbox will be stuffed with letters from American citizens, journalists, and newspapers – all looking to get quotations, answers, and to spout their opinions. And _everyone_ will have an opinion, and the majority won't be looking at you as the victim. There are people out there who will hate you for what you've done, they will say terrible things, they will attempt to eviscerate your character, they will disregard and disbelieve the sincerity of your apologies and they will attack you for every sentence and every misspoken and mispronounced word and they will use it against you. They will critique every aspect of your body language, and they will not care what they say or how it makes you feel. Rumors will be spread, people will attempt to talk to White House employees; you are a well of information that everyone will want to tap."

Olivia paused, waiting for a reaction on Mellie's before she continued.

"And they will say cruel and hateful things about your son. Do you understand?"

Mellie swallowed and squeezed her hands together.

"I understand."

Olivia felt a horrible ball of pity curl up inside of her.

"There is no timeline for the sentiment of the American people, but that is why I am here – to isolate and minimize the damage, to ease the brunt of the storm, and to put you back onto the road to recovery. So like I said – you do as I say when and how I tell you to do it, nothing more and nothing less."

"It's ironic isn't it?" Mellie asked quietly.

"What is?" Olivia asked, as she shuffled through more papers.

"That I should be the one on the scaffold and you're helping me when in fact, you're the one who had an affair with my husband."

Olivia looked up.

"Mellie, I –,"

"Don't," Mellie said, "I know it might be hard for to you believe, but this isn't about you and Fitz. Not anymore."

The look on her face was almost forlorn and Olivia watched her sadly, not knowing what else to say. Then suddenly, a gigantic bout of nausea hit her, and warm, bitter vomit surged up and filled Olivia's mouth, swimming sickeningly over her tongue and around her teeth. Olivia clamped her hand to her lips and jumped up, and looking horrified and confused, Mellie stood up too. Olivia ran to the bathroom, burst into the stall, and leaned over the toilet where she let go of her mouth and let her mouthful of sick spill into the white bowl and hit the water with a revolting splatter. Her stomach churned as more and more vomit spilled down her throat and into the toilet – pink and watery. When she was finally done and sure that her esophagus had been thoroughly abused, Olivia washed out her mouth in the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. _No…_she thought to herself, _it hasn't even been a month and you're vomiting already?_ It was worse than the nausea from her concussion, and it left her with a bad taste in her mouth. Olivia waited until the rest of the queasiness, which seemed like forever, and then although she knew it was impossible to see anything; she lifted up her shirt and looked at her stomach. Everything looked the same. She took a deep breath, and then finally, she headed back out. Mellie was sitting back down at the table and locked her eyes on Olivia as she took a seat.

"Was it the coffee?" Mellie hypothesized, "I knew it smelled funny when the redhead asked me if I wanted some."

"No," Olivia replied, trying to think quickly, "I had a concussion. This cast and my bruise – I fell and I had a concussion."

"But that was a little over a week ago," Mellie said, sounding confused. "Don't nausea symptoms from concussions usually fade away within the first week?"

"I don't really know. I think mine just started up again," Olivia lied.

"Have you been back to the doctor? Shouldn't you inform them if you start experiencing recurring symptoms?" Mellie asked, sounding suspicious.

"No, but thank you. I'll do that."

"You should probably do it now, I mean – concussions are brain injuries. You shouldn't take brain injuries lightly," Mellie pressed.

"Really, Mellie," Olivia said sternly, "I'm fine."

Mellie's eyes darted all over Olivia's face before she sighed, seemingly resigned.

"I'm sorry," Mellie shook her head apologetically, "it's just…I used to do equestrian until my mid-twenties and I once got a concussion from a bad fall off an Andalusian. So I know a few things."

"It's okay. Let's just get back to work," Olivia said quickly, not wanting to spend a second longer on the subject.

She kept her head down and avoided Mellie's lingering gaze, which was starting to make her feel self-conscious and exposed.

"Yes, of course," Mellie finally said, "let's."

x X x

It was late in the evening, Mellie had left hours ago, and all the associates were busy working on Mr. Watson's case. He had finally decided to come clean about his relationship with 'escort' Missy Lovelace, and everyone was hard at work. Olivia was in her private office, watching the infamous Monica Lewinsky interview with Barbara Walters and taking notes when there was a sharp knock on her door. She paused the video.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened and Huck stepped inside. He closed the door behind him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Watson's daughter is currently at boarding school in Massachusetts," he informed her.

"Good. Call her school and give her another extended absence for bereavement, then book her a flight and bring her down here. We need to make sure that she can provide us with any information on her parent's turbulent marriage so that she won't give up to the press first, if at all."

Huck nodded slowly. Olivia returned to her video, but Huck was still standing there, looking at her.

"Is there something else I can help you with Huck?" she asked, amused.

"You're in love with him," Huck proclaimed.

Olivia looked up at him, wide-eyed. She was sure she had heard him correctly, but then again, she couldn't have….

"Excuse me?" she quavered.

A flash of cold sweat prickled down the sides of her neck and on her arms. She paused the interview for the second time and kept her eyes on Huck, who hadn't looked away either.

"The President of the United States, the husband of the woman who was just in that conference room, yours, mine, Abby's, Harrison's, Quinn's Commander-in-Chief, the leader of this country."

Olivia didn't answer. Huck had known about her and Fitz ever since he had unwittingly stumbled upon pictures of the two of them on Edison's blackmailing flash drive. But since then, no words about it had ever been spoken between either of them. They had ignored it and moved on; Huck had dutifully kept quiet and Olivia hadn't even bothered to explain it. It was never discussed and superficially forgotten, so much so that it hadn't even been an elephant in the room. But now, Olivia was painfully aware that Huck had known this entire time. She watched him walk past the small desk and over to her couch, where he settled himself in the middle.

"I don't know The President, and I don't know The First Lady, but I do know you. And I've seen you throw your heart into cases; cases that you care about, people and things that you care about – and you care about this, don't you? The White House has a Press Secretary to handle all of this, and you're working this hard to save his wife because you feel guilty and you care about him, right?"

Olivia took a slow, trembling breath. Huck's eyes were locked on hers, making it very difficult to avoid his words.

"What you saw on that flash drive…" Olivia began slowly, "was…it was wrong."

"Was it?"

"Huck…"

"I can't judge you, remember? I kill people," Huck said simply.

Olivia smiled faintly.

"Can I ask you why?"

Olivia sighed. He was genuinely curious and interested in what she had to say, and he was right – he wasn't judging her – he was caring. But what could she even say to him? _I happened to meet and fall in love with probably the one person on this earth that I shouldn't have fallen in love with? I love someone who, with even only a look, can set me ablaze? I am in love with someone who has surprised and captivated me everyday with his indisputable compassion, his goodness and his warmth? I am in love with someone who let me in and let me know them and who now, completely holds me without bounds?_ Olivia sighed and closed down her computer.

"I don't have that answer."

"I know. And I'm sorry. And I know you don't want to talk about this so I'll leave, right now."

But before he could get up, Olivia stood from her desk and sat down on the couch next to Huck. She reached out and took his hand.

"Thank you, but you can stay."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly and feeling more comfortable than she had in what seemed like the longest time, Olivia rested her head on his shoulders and closed her eyes.

**I love Cyrus sometimes, but that punch was beyond overdue (go Fitz!). I wonder if he'll ever tell Olivia that he punched Cyrus? Ha! And aren't Huck and Olivia just the best? A lot of you guys were very upset with Olivia last chapter and trust me, I was too (seriously!) – but I wanted to appreciate the fact that in the midst of everything else that was going on, she found out that she was pregnant with the child of the POTUS – of all people in the world. I would never, ever doubt Olivia's desire to be with Fitz, nor her desire to do right by her little embryo (aw, babies!) but she walks on the fine line of navigating the risky and the complex and all the time; so I would be surprised if she didn't spend a while trying to figure out how to navigate this one. But in my opinion, Olivia ultimately knows what she wants and I could **_**never**_** see her giving up on Olitz - so don't give up on her! :) And in that same vein, your support for this story has always made writing this ballad of "Olitz" tons of fun and I seriously love you readers (even when you may not like me so much, hehe)! Anyway, tell me what you think in a review below and thank you ALL. **


	33. She Said, She Said

It was the next day, Friday, June 8, and Olivia was standing in her kitchen watching a large bag of popcorn rotate in the cheap yellow light of her microwave. Popcorn was thankfully not on the ever-growing list of things that she was discovering made her stomach turn. Ever since yesterday when she had embarrassingly bolted from her meeting with Mellie in the Pope & Associates conference room to splatter her first bout of morning sickness in the toilets, nearly everything that she tasted or smelled made her feel terribly nauseous. This morning, she had made a mental note to avoid walking past the breakfast food trucks on her way to work, and then later on in the afternoon, she had apologized to Harrison for making unpleasant gagging noises when he opened a freshly brewed Cup of Noodles. And just minutes ago, she had to throw away a beautifully prepared pair of salmon croquettes after the offensive smell sent her running to the bathroom sink.The microwave beeped the end of its cycle and Olivia poured out the entire bag of hot, steaming popcorn into a large, clear bowl. Then she poured herself a glass of cold orange juice and walked into her bedroom, where she sat in her bed cross-legged with toes buried underneath her comforter. The television across the room was on CNN at full volume; it was only minutes to seven and Mellie was just about ready to take to the podium for her live press conference, which was taking place at The White House. Reporters and journalists fully armed with large cameras, microphones, recorders, and writing pads were quickly filling up the room like dark gray bees, as were multiple Secret Service detail, and members of Mellie's cabinet. Olivia reached to her bedside table and took up the dark brown plastic bottle Nature's Made Multi Prenatal vitamins. She unscrewed the cap and popped out two in her hand – they were reddish brown and shaped like kidney beans. Olivia's stomach rolled with nausea as her throat clenched involuntarily, already feeling the pills' intrusive and uncomfortable presence.

As Olivia watched the press conference room fill up, she couldn't ignore the fact that she was noticing that Fitz was not there. It didn't surprise her, since Linda had informed her that the President had insisted that he not be present at his wife's press conference, but it did not stop Olivia from hoping that he had changed his mind so she could see him, and it certainly didn't stop her mind from barreling through fresh, palpable memories of the two of them: the challenge in his voice when he told her to go to her room…the chafe of her jeans against her thighs as he yanked them off on an empty hotel room bed…the vulnerable rawness of his head against her stomach after the passing of his father…the moment she first stuck his Eisenhower pin to his lapel… his hand on hers at the National Archives...his desperate, stolen kiss in the Oval Office moments after she found out the truth about Amanda Tanner and seconds before Cyrus walked in…his hands at the bottom of her back as they gripped at her white Calvin Klein dress at the State Dinner while they danced…the way he had her on her couch weeks ago; his hands sliding up and down her sensitive skin during their first encounter months after he was shot….

The jarring sound of the news reporter's voice brought Olivia back to the present. The room was entirely full now and every single seat was occupied.

"The time is exactly 7:04pm and The First Lady is live right now in Washington, D.C. in The White House Press Briefing Room."

"Ladies and gentlemen, The First Lady of the United States."

Respectable clapping sounded throughout the room and Olivia sat up straighter, stuffing popcorn handfuls into her mouth. From the corner of the room, Mellie took to the podium – dressed in appropriately muted colors. As if it snapped at its cords, the clapping died immediately and a somber-looking Mellie stood in complete silence. The microphone was perfectly adjusted as she stepped to it, holding the edge of the podium with immaculate fingernails.

"Good evening. As an advocate for honesty, truth, and accountability, I stand at this podium ready to be forthcoming and honest, and ready to take complete responsibility for all of my actions, and that is why I am speaking to you all tonight. I have kept silent and now I want to make it clear that the allegations concerning my infidelity and the father of my newborn child, Isaac Fitzgerald Grant, are true. In August 2011, I made a very grave error in judgment and I conducted myself in a manner opposite of my core beliefs, and in a manner disloyal to my family. I was unfaithful to my husband, President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant, and I had an extra-marital affair, of which my husband and my two eldest children know, and for which I have apologized and asked their forgiveness. And though I will not speak the name of the man involved in my transgressions, it is true is that Isaac Fitzgerald Grant is indeed his son. The man involved was a close friend, with whom the relationship began very innocently, and then led to inappropriate behavior. My affair was a careless, selfish, senseless and hurtful mistake of personal failure and of which I take full accountability. My actions are deeply regrettable. Let me first and foremost, publicly apologize to my husband and my children, whom I have let down and hurt immensely. I am deeply sorry to them. And secondly, let me apologize to the citizens of this great nation, who had faith and trust in me, and whose trust and faith it is that I hope to regain. I must put this right and I will do whatever it takes to do so. My love for my husband and our children has not faded, and though I understand the extreme turmoil that I have caused them, I would like to employ the privacy my family and I deserve during this tense time. I cannot stress it enough, that this is a situation of which I take full responsibility and I will do all that I can for my family and myself to heal together and move forward. And as a nation – we need to make efforts to no longer be distracted by this matter, and to seize the opportunity to continue with national and not private concerns. Again, I am deeply sorry to all and thank you for watching, and good night."

An onslaught of lights and clicks from excited reporters and their cameras flashed across the screen and filled up the room as Mellie, who's face was perfectly solemn was ushered off the stage by the spry and blonde Linda Prewett, who took the podium next.

"That is all The First Lady has for tonight, thank you."

And she too left amidst a bright cloud of lights, and the cacophony of yelling voices.

Olivia sat still, hardly listening to what was going on inside the now emptying White House Press Briefing Room. Mellie had delivered her statement well; with great humility and a believable show of regret. But Olivia was acutely aware of the fact that Mellie had not once apologized for lying to the American public about Isaac. The hint and implication was certainly there, but Mellie possessed the careful tongue that belonged to the harmonious duet of both lawyer and experienced politician, and Olivia knew that she hadn't been specific for a reason. Mellie had never intended to go onto the podium to apologize for his Isaac's birth, which would be the living evidence of her affair. Mellie had done exactly what she should have done. Olivia felt embarrassed and upstaged, but what disconcerted her the most was the unshakeable, sinking realization that she wasn't protecting anyone from anything, and rather she was being dishonest and unfair to the one person she loved the most. _Maybe two? The two people I love the most_, Olivia reminded herself, holding her flat stomach. With great resolve, she shut off the television and took a deep breath. Then boldly, she dry swallowed the prenatal pills in her hand, reached into her purse on the end of her bed and pulled out her cell phone. She speed-dialed and within a few rings, Louise answered – her tone clipped and smart.

"Secretary to President Fitzgerald Grant, Louise Baker. How may I assist you?"

"Louise," Olivia said sweetly, "it's Olivia Pope, how are you?"

"Olivia!" Louise exclaimed warmly, "I haven't heard from you in forever. How has it been?"

Olivia smiled to herself. This was true – she had no reason to call through Jane first ever since Fitz had started calling her on his own through a secure line.

"Everything's been really great. Is the President home?"

"Yes, he's in the Oval, but The First Lady just stepped in. Do you want me to leave a message?"

"No, that's all right. Thank you."

Without even a look at herself in the mirror, Olivia hopped out of bed and slid into her heels. Then she stuffed her keys into her purse and left.

x X x

By the time Olivia was cleared through The White House gates, it was a little past nine and the late summer sun had finally faded away completely. It was replaced by a dark, clear sky peppered with stars. The last time she had been in The White House in the evening was so long ago, but nothing had changed. The first floor was hardly the foot traffic haven it was during the day, and only White House maids were meandering about. Olivia rushed down Cross Hall towards the West Wing, and when she finally reached the Oval Office, she opened the door so quickly that she would have mistaken him for an oddly colored and dangerously placed floor lamp if he hadn't bumped right into her. Olivia stopped and watched Cyrus carefully. He was looking back at her, his face impassive.

"He's not in the here," Cyrus said lowly.

Olivia looked over Cyrus's shoulder into the Oval Office and indeed, Fitz was not inside. She exhaled disappointedly before noticing a purplish bruise on Cyrus's left jaw – one that would have rivaled her own a week ago.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

Cyrus's face lit up bright red and he cleared his throat.

"I thought I limited your access?" he countered, choosing to ignore her question.

"_Thought_ being the operative word. Where is he?" Olivia said angrily.

Bruised or not, Cyrus's words two days ago had stung her and she knew him better than to think he had let them slip by accident. She wasn't in the mood to see him, much less have him stand in her way.

"Olivia, The First Lady just gave her press conference. Everyone is a little tense and on edge. Linda is running around like a chicken without its head and Paulette may or may not soon have a heart attack, so let's dial it down."

"Where is he Cyrus?" Olivia repeated.

"He's in The Rose Garden. Not that it matters to you because you need to leave."

Olivia stepped to push past Cyrus, but he was quick and he blocked her way with an outstretched arm. She took in a deep breath and eyed him carefully.

"Get out of my way Cyrus."

"He is fragile and you are making this worse. Not to mention that I could have you hauled out of here in less than the time it takes for you two to make bedroom eyes."

"_Get. Out. Of. My. Way, Cyrus!_" Olivia yelled.

Cyrus took a deep breath and stepped aside. Olivia brushed past him and crossed the floor of the Oval Office to the east door that opened up to The Rose Garden. She opened up the door and headed out. It had been months since she had been in the garden and it never ceased to comfort her – beautiful and colorful. Even at night, it was gorgeous in all its splendor – packed with Catherine crabapple trees, tulips and grape hyacinth, all bathed in the yellow light coming from The White House windows. She stood on the marble, overlooking the top of the few white steps that led to the grass. For a moment, she panicked as she looked around for him, and then she saw. Standing at the very far end of the grassy patch, on the stone pathway with his back to her, was Fitz. Olivia's heart fluttered at the sight of him. She had rushed over here emboldened, ready, and willing and how quickly it was that she had forgotten that the very sight of him never stopped to arrest her in her tracks. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his pants and from the arch of his strong back, she could see that he was looking out far into the distance – unaware of her presence and probably anything else, she suspected. She wondered what it was that he was thinking about; she wondered why he was standing there alone. Her stomach rolled impatiently, urging her to move forward and quietly, she walked through the grass towards him. It could have been that he was lost in thought, but Fitz hadn't noticed Olivia until her heel clicked against the stone pathway. He turned around and Olivia felt her words catch in her throat. _It's been way too long_, Olivia thought. He was beyond handsome, he was breathtaking and he was looking at her looking at him. And in those few seconds of silence, she could see on his face the look that reminded her how simply being around him and with him transformed them both.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi."

**I know this is only a single chapter update, BUT for purposes of continuity and better comprehension, this one had to be shot off into the fan fiction world by itself. But it gives you more to look forward to! Things are winding down and shaping up – Mellie took to the podium to admit to her transgressions and seems to have lost all fight (or perhaps, she just has new priorities), Olivia is discovering the unfortunate side effects of pregnancy (cute!), and now she's standing in front of Fitz in The Rose Garden (cue heart melting "you own me, I belong to you!" scene) What will she say? What will she do? It doesn't really matter because I expect it to be good. All this time, it was Fitz the one coming to her and reaching out to her and now it's her turn, and she took it. It's been a really long time coming. Do you think Fitz will be overjoyed? Do you think he'll be upset that this means Olivia might have to go through what Mellie is going through? Leave a review below and tell me your thoughts! :) **


	34. Just What I Needed

Olivia stepped closer until they were only inches apart from each other. It didn't matter how many times she was near Fitz,she would never get enough of how just looking at him made her feel: the playful waves of his short brown hair, the slope of his nose, the melting blue of his eyes, the firmness of his jaw, the sight of his Adam's apple – so prominent and meaningful – and the strength of his hands that hadn't held her in much too long. He was staring back at her, his face struck with surprise and something else – worry? Fear? Olivia tried to keep her mind clear;they were so close and all she wanted to do was lean into his chest and slip her arms through his and hope that he wouldn't recoil – but she couldn't yet. She watched his eyes slowly trace over her body, then he opened his mouth to speak, but Olivia was ready for him. She held up her hand and took a deep breath.

"Don't," she told him. "Don't say anything yet. Okay?"

Fitz looked at her curiously, but he nodded and stayed silent.

"I'm sorry. I hurt you, and I am so sorry for that, but I want you to understand when I say it won't happen again. I love you Fitz, I am in love with you. I have loved you since before I even told you, and I have wanted you for more than two years now. And all this time, I've been trying to fight it I tried because I thought it was the right thing to do. You have a family, you have a wife, you have a nation, and I couldn't want you. So I have been trying to make it right and I have been trying to do the right thing, and I have spent so much time pushing you back and pushing you away because I thought it was what I needed to do. I thought that you could only be the best of who you are if I weren't standing by your side; there was no way you could do this with me tarnishing this and everything you have. But it wasn't you I was protecting. You have told me time and time again that you wanted both, but I wasn't listening because I was afraid. I was afraid it wouldn't work, I was afraid it would be too much and that people would blame us; they would blame you for me and for bringing you down. But I can't do that anymore. I have gone along with these past three days completely numb, and I'm done doing it. You are compassionate and selfless, you are ambitious, you are kind, you are good and genuine, you are open and you make me give myself to you. I can't move unless you take a step, and when I'm standing next to you, I can't control anything. I don't have the answers. I just have you, and me and this overpowering, burning, amazing, intoxicating…_perfect_ love and I get lost in it and then I don't want to find my way back. You have totally consumed me...you are all I think about, you are all I want, I _need_ you. You left me in my apartment and I watched you walk away and I can't let that happen again. I won't let you walk away from me and not come back. I told you I loved you and it hurt and I know it hurt because it's the same thing I've been saying for years, but not anymore. I want this. I am here right now telling you I want this," Olivia breathed.

Carefully, she reached out and put her hand against Fitz's cheek. And ever so slightly, she felt him lean into her palm and her heart lurched forward.

"I'm done being worried and scared about it. I'm doing this, you and me – we're in this together," she said.

Fitz hadn't said a word the entire time Olivia spoke, and he was still watching her with the same confusing expression on his face. She couldn't make out how he was feeling, or what he was thinking, but his eyes never left Olivia's, and she waited – hanging onto every breath he was taking.

"That's not true," Fitz finally said. "You're still scared, I can see it."

Olivia blinked, "Fine. You're right. I am still scared. But it doesn't matter because I don't care anymore."

Surprise filled Fitz's eyes as they searched Olivia's face – no doubt looking for the verity and truth of her words in her eyes. Fitz reached up and put his hand over Olivia's, pressing it into his cheek. He turned his head slightly and kissed her open palm, sending tingling shivers down her arm.

Olivia leaned in and kissed him lightly, letting her lips just graze his; it was timid and innocent. She stepped back and let her hands fall to her sides. Before she could say anything more, Fitz had his hands at her hips and he pulled her in closer. And then he kissed her.It was unlike anything she had felt before and it set her ablaze; every goose bump on her skin was on fire, and she could sense everything around her – magnified and intense: the softness of his lips against hers, the feel of his hand running through her hair, the rousing and erotic pressure of his fingertips on her waist, the sound of her purse dropping to the cement below them, the warm summer breeze whipping at their faces and playing in her hair. She was kissing him like she had never kissed him before – with pure abandon and unbridled vehemence,and not giving a damn that they were in the middle of the Rose Garden. Whosoever wanted to look out to see could do certainly do so, because she was his and they were together. Against her lips, she felt Fitz moan out her name, and in response, she pressed into him. Everything around her was unimportant as she fervently pushed her body against his and dropped her lips down to his neck, letting her tongue skim over his throat. They might have been there for minutes, maybe even half an hour or more – Olivia didn't know. All she knew was that she had completely given up everything that she had been fighting and it was new and strange, but she didn't regret it. A powerful and wild feeling of freedom and devotion was rushing out of her, and she wanted more. Without a moment's hesitation, Olivia broke away from him and stepped back. Fitz held onto her shoulders and looked at her, confused and breathing hard.

"Livvy…sweet baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Olivia was breathing hard too, still feeling the pressure of his lips on hers.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted. "It's been almost three weeks now…since the twenty-second of May. Camp David."

She kept her eyes on him and waited for a reaction. And then slowly, very slowly, she watched Fitz's face change from confusion, to wonder, to a small smile that started with his eyes and slowly traveled to his lips.

"Say something," she whispered, trying to keep panic out of her voice. "You're smiling but you're not talking. Say something."

Fitz didn't answer. His head was down and couldn't read his face. A quick and frenzied panic was climbing over her. _Oh no, was this a mistake?_ She considered. _Is he too worried? Should I have waited? _

"She knew…" Fitz whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Who? Who knew what?" Olivia asked, confused.

Fitz shook his head, brushing off whatever it was that he was thinking about, and stared at Olivia with wide blue eyes. She scrutinized him, looking for signs of the shock that must have surely derailed him.

"You're the President of the United States and I am pregnant and I am not your wife. And I know – I mean you know more than I do, how time-consuming babies must be and this is a shock and it's weird. You're going to be busy, I know that for sure, and the timing is awful, and I know –," Olivia started; not even listening to the poorly structured sentences that were falling out of her mouth.

"Stop," Fitz interrupted sternly. He squeezed her shoulders. "Stop that. I don't care about that. I don't care about time, I don't care about being busy, I don't care about any of it. _We _don't care remember?"

"So it's okay…this is good, right? This is good."

Fitz let out an exasperated laugh and stared at her incredulously. He grabbed onto the ends of her fingers and carefully pulled her towards him until her chest was pressed against his own. Someone's heart was racing out of control, but Olivia couldn't tell if it was his or her own…they were so close to each other.She felt herself slipping underneath Fitz's gaze – there was a new adoration in his eyes that made her feel like her ankles were suddenly too weak to hold her up. But Fitz held onto her.

"Olivia Carolyn Pope. This is _amazing_," he whispered, "this is the best thing that has happened to me. Do you know what this means? Do you know how happy you've made me? The woman I love is having my baby. I am having a baby with the woman I love. I _love_ you, with everything I have and more than I ever thought possible, so don't you ever think for a second that this isn't a good thing. This is the _best_ thing, and the most perfect thing. Look at you – look at all _three_ of us now. I couldn't possibly want for anything right now, and I couldn't imagine anything being better than this. I _want_ this. I want everything that this brings."

"Good…good," Olivia breathed.

She was smiling so wide that it hurt. Fitz kissed Olivia deeply, and there it was again – that new rush of freedom expanding in her chest and bursting out. _He's happy_, Olivia thought, and she couldn't help but smile against Fitz's mouth, giving him a mouthful of teeth. He stood back, looking serious and put his hand on Olivia's stomach and held it there. Right on cue, whether out of nervousness, excitement, or another bout of inconvenient sickness, her stomach flopped and Olivia couldn't help but feel a little queasy.

"Are you okay?" Fitz asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, it just…I started the infamous morning sickness two days ago, and Pea makes it start up at most inopportune times."

Fitz snorted.

"What did you just say? _Who_ makes it start up?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

Olivia felt the heat crawl up her face uncomfortably. She looked down at her shoes and wiggled out of Fitz's grasp, embarrassed.

"It's not a _real_ name, it's just…I was looking at myself in the mirror and it just kind of stuck," Olivia admitted. "Don't laugh at me," she pouted.

But Fitz wasn't listening to her. He had already thrown his head back in laughter, and then before she knew it, he was kissing her again and was backing her up against one of the crabapple trees behind them. Fitz's mouth moved down to the soft material of her shirt and then continued its descent down her chest between her breasts until he had nowhere else to go. And there he stayed – knees on the ground, fingers tucked into the waistband of her pants, and cheek resting against her stomach.

"So Camp David, huh?" he asked mischievously, his voice muffled by the cotton of her shirt.

Olivia laughed and ran her fingers lazily through his hair. She let her mind wander – _what part of Fitz would he look like? Or would it be a she?_

"When did you find out?" Fitz asked, looking up at her from down below.

"When I was taken to the hospital for my concussion. The doctor ran a blood test and told me," Olivia answered. "I was _so_ nervous." She paused. "I had my first appointment three days ago. The doctor estimated the due date for me… the twelfth of February – next year."

"February twelfth…" Fitz murmured thoughtfully, sending vibrations against Olivia's stomach.

Neither of them said anything for a while. The air was still and quiet, and everything was much realer now – concrete and tangible. He knew and that made all the difference. Olivia looked out at the flowers and over to The White House, who's many windows shined light out onto the grass of the garden. She took a deep breath. What would happen? Nine months later what would be their story? What would they tell people?As though sensing her thoughts, Fitz got up and looked directly into her eyes as he spoke.

"Livvy…you have made me the happiest, _happiest _man alive. Don't doubt it. Don't forget it. It's just you and me and this little one in this okay? Anything you want, anything we need – it's happening. You have given me this amazing future and you and I are together in this _forever_. I am not going anywhere, I'm not leaving, and I'm not going to stop standing by you. Trust me and believe me when I say that everything will be more than you could want. I want to make you as happy as you've just made me, so don't forget that."

"Okay," Olivia whispered.

She leaned back into his chest and closed her eyes, feeling his fingers slide through her arm and rest on her stomach. And for the first time, she knew that everything would be much better than just okay.


	35. In Your Eyes

Fitz sat at his desk in the Oval Office, and stared out at the door across from him that lead to the hallway. The office was empty and quiet, just the way he liked it to be, and he was alone. As the alternative was being in the White House Press Briefing Room with his wife – who was currently coming clean about her leaked transgressions – and a couple dozen journalists, he preferred it that way.

He leaned back against his large chair and propped his feet up on the desk and stared at the black phone to his right, just the same way he had been doing for the past couple of wanted to reach over and dial Olivia's number to say something, or maybe even just to sit there…but he wouldn't. It took every ounce of his willpower not to call her, and all of his strength to try not to wonder about what she was doing – the latter at which he was failing had called Tom in and out of the Oval six times in the past three days with the intention of having him keep an eye on Olivia with more surveillance. But each time, he had sent him back out, reminding himself that it was a bad idea – she had hated him for that, and he wouldn't do it the image of her face when he saw he had seen her last – sitting across from him in the couch, hopeful and as always, a little worried – gnawed at him. He had asked her to be with him, he had asked her not to be worried anymore and to tell him that she wanted them to be together…and she had just _looked_ at him.

Fitz closed his eyes and groaned, feeling the same anger, frustration, and disappointment all over again. He was angry when he left her broken and crestfallen, he was angry when he slammed the door shut behind him, and he was even angry when he stood outside of her it for an entire eight minutes waiting for her to come out, or waiting to walk back in. He had hurt her, and he had bruised her – he knew that. And he was angry with himself for putting her through that, but at the same time, he was angry that she refused to do what they both wanted and needed. And so that night, he turned away from her door and ordered Tom and Hal drive him back to The White House, where he shut himself up in the private study and tried to do everything possible to push Olivia out of his mind. He had organized encyclopedias and perused through books on the bookshelf only to find everything irritating and uninteresting. But there wasn't a single thing that could have pushed her out of his mind that night, nor the night after, nor last night…not even right now. _"I love you_," she had said to him. He knew that, he more than knew that – but it wasn't enough for him, not anymore. Not when he was ready to finally leave his wife, finally, and move forward with what he wanted. As if right on cue, the door to the Oval opened without a knock, and Mellie walked in. Fitz looked up at her tiredly but didn't say anything. She closed the door behind her and walked over to the desk, and sat down in the chair right in front of him.

"Is it over already?" he asked sarcastically, taking care not to hide any annoyance in his voice.

"You weren't there," Mellie said sharply.

"I specifically told Linda I didn't want to be present," Fitz answered simply, dropping his feet back onto the ground and sitting upright.

"I know that. But I could have used your support, Fitzgerald. The American people would have liked to see you standing there."

"I think the American people would prefer to see me here, working."

"Well you're not even doing that, so I don't see why that matters," Mellie jabbed.

Fitz ignored her.

"Cyrus has a bruised jaw," Mellie said.

Fitz raised an eyebrow, amused, "And?"

"Well, I don't remember how long it's been exactly since he was in a boxing match, and I don't really think James has that kind of temper in him. Is there anything that you would like to say?"

"Nope," Fitz muttered lazily.

Truthfully, in retrospect, he felt a little badly for Cyrus – as did his bruised knuckles – but he couldn't stand by to listen to Cyrus yell at Olivia on the phone; he couldn't stand that he could call her without feeling the same overwhelming anguish and guilt.

"Where are we right now Fitz?" Mellie snapped. "You are sitting here in the Oval Office staring at the door, you don't want to say anything, and you don't want to _do_ anything. _Is_ there anything you even want to do Fitz?"

"I want to get a divorce."

True surprise flickered over Mellie's face, and Fitz could tell that she was genuinely caught off guard. He had meant for the words to come out dry and unfeeling – he had no energy and emotion to spare for Mellie. But now that the words were out there, he wished he had treated them less carelessly. There was an immediate shift in the atmosphere of the room, and suddenly there was a new tension he had never experienced before with his wife. Mellie hadn't taken her eyes off him, and she nodded slowly.

"I thought that was coming," she said quietly.

"You did?" he asked.

"I thought you may have waited, but I guess not…" Mellie trailed off, her voice wavering.

"Mellie –," Fitz started.

"I thought you might have waited a few months until after I broke the news about Isaac."

Fitz and Mellie sat across from each other. He didn't know what to say to her. Years of marriage – albeit tough, arduous, and suffocating – stood between them. Their relationship was forever crumbling, but the finality and truth to his words was unexpectedly shattering. He watched his wife carefully as she folded her hands on her lap and stared back at him.

"Twenty minutes ago I was on a podium talking to a hundred or so people before me and thousands more around this country. I got up there and I told them I was wrong for something. I told them they were right and that I had done something they wouldn't be proud of. I stood up there in front of thousands of judging eyes Fitzgerald, and I could have easily turned those tables. In a neat little segue, I could have flipped the entire script – one that ironically, Olivia drafted for me, and I could have told them all about how while you were preparing to run their great country, she and you had an affair right underneath my nose. I could have done that you know? I could have said 'sure, I screwed up and I messed up but _that_ guy…_that guy_ shut up in the Oval doing absolutely nothing, he screwed up too'. I could have done this a long time ago with Amanda Tanner…when you took Olivia to the National Archives…."

"Mellie –,"

"That room is still clearing out right now, but I hope you don't believe for a second that I couldn't haul them back in there quicker than they can say impeachment," Mellie interjected.

Fitz stared Mellie down, challenging her.

"You wouldn't," he said, trying to call her bluff.

Mellie surveyed him, "No, you're right. I wouldn't. I've spent the longest time vying for things around here and that's done. I am done hoping she trips and falls and you realize that you've made a mistake."

Fitz didn't say anything.

"Did you love me?" Mellie asked suddenly.

It was Fitz's turn to be surprised. He watched her closely, wondering from where that question came. She was sitting tall before him, with clear eyes and a proud look on her face. She wasn't crying, nor was she fighting to hold back tears. She was herself, and in a sense, this was certainly one thing he appreciated about Mellie – she was strong.

"No," he said finally.

"Did you ever love me like this?"

Fitz paused. When he spoke next, he spoke honestly, but he took care to tread carefully.

"Olivia is the love of my life. I've never felt this way before."

Mellie took a very deep breath and looked down at her lap and let out a small laugh.

"So this is it then?" she asked.

Fitz barely nodded, "I guess it is."

"Fine. You should talk to her," Mellie said, drawing herself up. "You haven't been talking to her."

"Who?" Fitz asked,although he knew exactly to whom Mellie was referring.

"You are upset, and she is upset. You should talk to her."

"Mellie…" Fitz groaned, "I _really_ don't want to talk to you about Olivia right now."

"Why not?" Mellie yelped. "I stood on a podium and I saved both of your asses and you can't even talk to me about her?"

"You don't even like Olivia and now you're telling me I need to talk to her?"

"Correct. I don't like Olivia Pope. But she's...when I saw her two days ago she was sick. She threw up and she _vomited_ in the middle of our conversation! She didn't look too well."

"She had a concussion Mellie," Fitz said impatiently, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

"She had a concussion almost _two weeks_ ago," Mellie refuted.

"And? All of a sudden you're an expert on concussions?"

"I just…it's not a concussion. I think…"

"What? You think what Mellie?" Fitz demanded impatiently.

Mellie looked up at him. In her eyes, Fitz could see her groping for an answer. He leaned forward impatiently.

"Yes?" He prompted.

"Nothing," Mellie finally said flatly, "I think nothing. But you get back to that. What you were doing. _Nothing_."

She stood up and left without so much as a glance behind her. Fitz stood up, feeling nervous. What was Mellie talking about? Was she just trying to get him to worry out of spite? Her insistence had unnerved him. He shook out his hands and on a whim he headed out to the Rose walked the long stretch down the grass and past the bed of tulips, and stopped at the stone walkway. The warm June night air was calming and relaxing against his mind drifted to Olivia pacing in circles some two years ago and he laughed to himself, feeling that same overwhelming feeling he felt when he finally knew that he was in love with her….

x X x

"So tomorrow, we work from our key arguments, including Langston's verbal flub back in Washington state. Our strategy is basically that we want to lure Langston into a place where she looks like she doesn't connect with the people. Make her look distant, out-of-touch, outdated, and certainly not relatable," Cyrus said confidently.

He and Fitz were sitting in the conference room of a South Carolina. It was well past midnight and Fitz was exhausted.

"Good, and what does my wpm look like?" Fitz asked, getting up.

"209."

"Good, good. Perfect."

"Now, our biggest problem like I've said time and time again is that we need to make sure you don't look too aggressive, because – sir? Governor?" Cyrus broke off.

Fitz had just pulled on a jacket.

"Is it…_cold_, sir?" Cyrus asked carefully.

"I'm heading to the bus," Fitz answeredsimply.

"The what? The bus?"

"The bus, the vehicle, the multi-wheeled construction that transports this campaign to and from places.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite following. The bus? Are we going somewhere?"

"I don't know where you're going but like I said, _I_ am heading to the bus," Fitz slid his arm through his jacket.

"Is that smart, is that wise? You have a debate tomorrow. You have lots and lots of questions to prepare for, including ones of the more _personal_ nature."

Fitz almost laughed at the sight of Cyrus's arched eyebrow, trembling with trepidation. He was hinting at the rumors that had surfaced of Mellie's infidelity, the ones he had just debunked and the ones about which he would most certainly be asked at tomorrow's debate against Sally Langston.

"It is wise. I have a lot on my mind and I do a lot of good thinking alone, so I am going to go into that campaign bus and I am going to decompress."

"Decom – decompress sir?"

"Exactly. I have my room key, you can clean up in here can't you?" Fitz nodded toward the measly pile of papers Cyrus had scattered on the conference table.

He left a mystified Cyrus in his wake, and walked out the room and down the lobby of the South Carolina hotel in which they were headed out to the hotel's parking garage where the driver was standing outside the campaign bus, flicking cigarette butts onto the ground. Fitz asked him if he could step inside for a minute and he let him. Once inside, he settled into one of the back seats and stared out the was pitch black outside and the bus was completely empty and wonderfully quiet. He was alone with nothing but his overwhelming thoughts to keep him was right, the debate was tomorrow evening and he was supposed to be mastering rebuttals and practicing his answers for the questions about Mellie's infidelity rumor that were bound to crop up. But all he could think about…all he could think about in on that bus, in the hotel lobby, anywhere and everywhere…was Olivia sank lower into the bus seat, finally allowing himself to get lost in thought.

Ever since she had introduced herself as Cyrus's hired campaign manager – _"Olivia…Pope_," she had said to him – and taken the skeletons of his marriage and dusted them off for all the rest of the campaign to see,she had intruded on his every thought. She had flipped his world upside down and she had shocked and intrigued him with her boldness and her fearless approach and delivery of the truth; she had stunned him completely, and thrown him head first into everything that she was. He had tried to fire her and do right by his marriage and rid himself of the temptation but Cyrus unfortunately, could not have been more correct – his campaign had needed her and so only somewhat reluctantly, he had let Olivia Pope stay. She was obviously beautiful – there was no question about in the awkward and unflattering fluorescent light of their campaign offices, her brown skin glowed, captivating it wasn't long before Fitz realized that he had memorized everything about her – the way her pants hugged at her waist, the way her lips moved when she said his name,the way that her hair hung over her forehead and lightly brushed the tops of her second he had alone with her in a room was a dangerous game he never wanted to quit playing. He would watch her and freely imagine his own hands running down her waist and over her stomach, imagining what it would be like to kiss and taste her…to lace his fingers through her own…to lay next to her and skim his hands over her thighs. He had wanted Olivia Pope from the moment he saw her, but as he sat on that bus alone, Fitz knew it was much more than the seat of the bus, he shifted and stretched out and tried to imagine where she was and what she was doing now….

She had marched into his world and she had done something different. She had shown up out of nowhere and stood valiantly on his side in a way that no one had done rooted for him day in and day out, she guided him in a way that no one else had ever before, she gave him the necessary truth no one else dared to speak, and she gave him the push to be who he wanted to be. She was wondrously kind and silently compassionate with a relentless drive and desire to match. She led with a steady, powerful hand that left nothing to be desired. She was stunningly smart and quick on her feet, and though she knew it, she never failed to listen to him with a genuine ear. She was his biggest advocate and though she didn't know it – he was hers too. She was the solid and comforting place to be near in all the chaos that he felt was sometimes too overwhelming. He looked to her for the answers, for her approval, for her half-smile that let him know he was on the right track. He made no move without her, he looked for her, he watched for her, and he read every nuance of emotion on her face with every time they accidentally brushed against each other, he had to stop himself from pulling her away just to be alone with was like nothing Fitz had ever experienced before – they moved together in a way that was so remarkably seamless and intuitive. She was an incredible woman, the undeniable keeper of his admiration; she was the single most important thing to him. And then in the campaign bus, alone and unbothered, Fitz felt his heart beating madly against his chest because in that moment, he just realized that he was wholly and irrevocably in love with Olivia Pope.

x X x

The warm summer night breeze passing over Fitz's face brought him back to the present. He took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out into the distance. It might have the stillness of the air or the tranquility of the garden that muted all around him but Fitz didn't know anyone was standing behind him until he heard her voice.

"Hi," she said.

Fitz turned around. Olivia was standing behind him. It had only been three days since he had last seen her, but it felt like months. Whether it was possible that she had gotten more beautiful since then, he didn't know, but there she was – incredibly breathtaking. He definitely hadn't expected to see was surprised that she had come to see him after the way he left her that night, and he wondered why. Was she here to tell him it was over? Was she here to tell him yet again that they had to end everything? Was she angry with him the way he had been with her? Had she found someone else?

"Hi," he whispered back.

Olivia stepped closer to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

"Don't," she told him. "Don't say anything. I need to be the one to talk."

Fitz regarded at her, surprised. _Okay, go ahead_, he thought, slightly amused.

As she spoke, he listened, and with every word that came out of her mouth, he was happier than he could have ever been. She was finally coming to him, and she was letting everything be. She was standing so close to him and he wanted to swoop down and kiss her, but he stood where he was and let her speak, determined and impassioned – his she finished, she looked at him last words echoed in his brain: _I'm not afraid anymore. I'm doing this, you and me – we're in this together. I want this and I'm not scared._ He knew Olivia better than anyone, and beneath the earnestness and fearless bravado of her words, he knew that her heart racing.

"That's not true," he whispered when she finished. "You're still scared, I can see it."

Olivia looked surprised, but then conceded, "Fine. You're right. I am still scared. But it doesn't matter because I don't care anymore."

She stepped forward and kissed him tentatively before pulling away. But before she could stand still for more than moment, he had already grabbed her back and he pulled her into a kiss – long, hard and deep – until she was kissing him back. Everything felt wonderfully unreal and different – they were out in the open and she wasn't holding was here, she was his, and they were finally together. She was pressing herself into him and he could feel her getting lost in their embrace, and he could hardly believe by the taste that her lips allowed, he ran his fingers through her hair and felt her purse slide down against him before it hit the ground. The breeze around them picked up, blowing her hair into his face. He gripped at her waist and pulled her in closer, feeling the grind of her hips against his legs. She bit at his lip and then dropped her mouth to his neck, and let her tongue slide over his Adam's apple. In an instant, the warm and full feeling in his pants began to grow. Suddenly Olivia pulled away**.**

"Livvy…sweet baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Fitz asked, nervously.

_Had she thought better of it? Did she just change her mind?_ He thought to himself worriedly. He watched her face for an answer.

"I'm pregnant," she said quickly. "It's been almost three weeks now. May 22 at Camp David."

If it weren't for the fact that he was still holding onto Olivia, he might have stumbled backwards out of sheer shock. He watched her mouth as they formed that word…_pregnant. _It echoed around his mind and then he started to smile. _Olivia is pregnant_.He couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe what she was saying – he couldn't believe that after everything, she was his and more amazingly – they were now forever bound by this new addition. A bubbling joy was filling him up and expanding and rising inside of his chest. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to yell out, he wanted to grab her and hold her. He never thought it was possible to be happier than he was right now. _The woman you are madly in love with, the woman who wants to be with you forever, is pregnant with your child_. And then it came back to him…Mellie going on about Olivia being sick, Mellie being strangely concerned about Olivia's post-concussion sickness. Mellie – mother of three, had certainly known all this time.

"She knew…" Fitz whispered without even realizing that he had spoken.

"Who? Who knew what?" Olivia asked.

Fitz looked up. He shook his head, and looked at Olivia, feeling a rush of intense, love larger and bigger than he could have ever thought possible. The woman of his life, the most important person on this earth to him, was standing before him – carrying the best news he could have ever heard. And now she was mumbling something incoherent and silly. Fitz had to hold back rolling his eyes; he squeezed her shoulders to break her out of her pointless ramble.

"Stop," Fitz interrupted sternly. He squeezed her shoulders. "Stop that. I don't care about that. I don't care about time, I don't care about being busy, I don't care about any of it. _We _don't care remember?"

"So it's okay…this is good, right? This is good."

Fitz laughed. _Did she not know? Does she not understand what all of this means? Does she not understand how happy she has made me?_He looked at Olivia's face, hardly daring to believe that this incredible woman was really saying all that she was saying. He grabbed onto her hands, taking care not to pull her casted arm, and then he brought her closer. _How do I explain? How do I tell the person I love that they have just made me love them more in a way that _I_ don't even understand?__How do I explain that I couldn't have possibly asked for anything better?_

"Olivia Carolyn Pope. This is _amazing_," he whispered, "this is the best thing that has happened to me. Do you know what this means? Do you know how happy you've made me? The woman I love is having my baby. I am having a baby with the woman I love. I _love_ you, with everything I have and more than I ever thought possible, so don't you ever think for a second that this isn't a good thing. This is the _best_ thing, and the most perfect thing. Look at you – look at all _three_ of us now. I couldn't possibly want for anything right now, and I couldn't imagine anything being better than this. I _want_ this. I want everything that this brings."

"Good...good," Olivia said happily.

She smiled at him and it was simply too kissed her again, trying to express everything he couldn't that moment, he was truly the happiest person on Earth. When he pulled away, he took a deep breath. _This is it…_he thought. He put a hand to her stomach and felt the warmth of her skin through the cotton. He didn't know how much power the moment had over him, but whatever was happening, whatever he was feeling – it was something new, something wonderful finally coming together, at last.

**I listened to the sweetest, most wonderful love songs on my phone while writing these two chapters, and I wanted to hug everyone! These chapters were very emotionally driven for every character involved, and it was a great challenge to attempt to bring it all onto paper. Mellie's scene was particularly interesting because she's right: she could have flipped the script and told everyone all about Fitz and Olivia, but like she said, none of that is important to her anymore. To me, her conversation with Fitz was in a way, very sad, because as much as they don't romantically belong together, it was still the end of a marriage that had been through a lot. And to me, Mellie is (on the show and in this story) one of the strongest characters with incredible driving power. I needed her to be at peace with everything. But as for Fitz and Olivia – eek! FINALLY! Also, just to clarify in case anyone was confused: this chapter (35) started with Fitz sitting in the Oval Office soon after Mellie finishes her speech (sometime when Olivia is already en route to The White House). Then when he's out in the Rose Garden, he flashes back to the night before his debate with Sally Langston – the one where he says to the moderator that "the most honest thing about me is that I am a man in love with an incredible woman." I wrote this chapter because I wanted to really capture where Fitz's mind/thoughts were when he decided to "publicly" admit his love for Olivia. Much of the story (and the show) is from Olivia's perspective, so it was really great to write an entire chapter from Fitz's point of view, which is part of the reason why I titled this chapter "In Your Eyes" (all of my chapters are titled after some really good classic rock songs). Sigh – these two are just the best! Hold onto your seats – there's one more chapter (the epilogue) coming, so stay tuned for one last update and please leave all your Olivia/Fitz love in a review down below and tell me what you think (we really need each other during this 3-week separation period guys). **


	36. Show Me The Way (Beginnings)

_**Thursday, October 2, 2014 – St. Louis, Missouri – Washington University**_

Olivia contemplated the quarter-sized drop of strawberry yogurt on the breast of her cream-colored blouse. She examined its lumpy, pale pink circumference before carefully angling the corner of a damp paper towel to wipe it off. To her chagrin, not only did the towel leave a large wet blotch, but pieces of it also crumbled into unsightly white shreds that stubbornly clung to her dusted them off impatiently just as Louise came rushing over to her, her heels clicking a frantic _'clip-clap' _against the floor tiles.

"Do you have all of them?" Olivia asked Louise, before she could even open her mouth.

"Yes," Louise answered breathlessly, "We had six options pulled from the master closet in D.C.: striped red and white, lavender, gray, cornflower blue, lime, and yellow."

She held out six different ties, all of which were draped down her arm starting from her shoulder.

"Absolutely _no_ yellow, lime, or striped…and I don't really like that cornflower either," Olivia answered, "let me see the lavender and the gray by themselves?"

Louise pulled the four offending ties off her arm and held out the rest. Olivia studied them for a minute.

"You know what? I'll just take these and I'll make the decision when I see him. But right now, I need you to call in the staffers with the cameras and make sure that we've reviewed all the footage possible. Make sure that the volunteers are still out there canvassing and phoning. And then, confirm that Rona is here and ready to go because we need someone to start following and recording these popularity ratings the _minute_ these two go on stage. We need every single resource we can lay our hands on from now until November. And then, please tell Judith that she can come in now."

Olivia took the ties and draped them over her own arm as Louise hurried away, _clip-clapping_ her way out. Olivia walked over to the far end ofthe back room of the Washington University Athletic Complex, and stood behind the thick, blue drapery that hung between her and the stage of the large gymnasium-turned-debate she could neither see nor hear them, she could certainly sense the growing anticipation of the audience as they filled in the hundreds of seats facing the empty podiums that would, in fifteen minutes or so, be taken. She had done this before – four years ago she had stood in the same position behind similar blue curtains, and soaking in the fast-paced and focused energy that kicked the competitive political atmosphere into overdrive. And now, one term later, everything was almost exactly the same: staffers were running back and forth brandishing papers with facts and figures, phones were ringing off the hooks, and new volunteers were looking around nervously for delegation. Expensive, precious time had been devoted to preparing for this very moment; months were filled with tedious days spent compiling briefing books with prepared questions, and long grueling hours were spent practicing smart, relevant answers. And now, the day was finally here, and despite the annoying somersaults her stomach had suddenly taken to, she didn't want to be anywhere else. The door to the back room opened and Olivia turned around, expecting to see Louise rushing in with more ties. But instead it was Cyrus. He looked agitated and wary – he looked like Cyrus. She smiled at him as he walked over to her.

"You're late," she told him out, pointing at her watch.

"Yeah, yeah. I got stuck in the prep room with a field staffer carrying lawn signs and buttons. What greenhorns did we even hire for this thing? And why don't I know anything about this moderator either? Do we even know his party affiliation? Will it count against us if we say we don't like PBS?" Cyrus groaned.

"We're working with great and knowledgeable campaign staff. The field staffer with the lawn signs is David, a political science major and recent Georgetown graduate. I hired him and it's his first job so be nice and don't scare him. Michael Kentwood is a CBS news correspondent, and this is his first moderating job. He has three young kids, his wife owns a charity organization, they're both apolitical and Roman Catholic, and they live in a huge Dutch colonial in northern New Jersey. We have nothing to worry about, Fitz has nothing to worry about, and _you_ need to calm down."

"He's nervous Liv," Cyrus mumbled, "I can see all over his face that he's nervous. The man hasn't debated in four years Olivia, and I think…I think we didn't prepare him enough."

Olivia straightened her shoulders and stared into the depths of blue before her.

"He's allowed to be nervous," she said calmly, "and we don't want him over-prepared. You know just as well as I do that a candidate with too much information in his head is rote and unfocused; we don't want a Reagan of '84. We have prepped him on everything he needs to know; this is a man who knows what he's doing. His style is flawless, we had an excellent mock opponent, and he swept the floor in his mock debates. Fitz has done this before and he's done it well. We trust him Cyrus, remember?" Olivia nudged Cyrus in the shoulder.

Cyrus inhaled sharply through his teeth, "Fine, you're right. You're right, you're so right…I'm worrying. _I_ am the nervous wreck. Ah, I hate when you're right."

"You _love_ when I'm right," Olivia teased, slipping her arm through his, "especially during election year."

Cyrus cocked his head and smirked at Olivia.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Cyrus sighed pointedly, staring into his empty cup. "I'm just surprised that's all. I didn't expect to see you back here as campaign manager again. But then again…I didn't really expect to see a lot of what has transpired over the past two years."

"What are you saying? Did you not expect him to run again? As his Chief of Staff two terms in a row, shouldn't you hold all confidence in him?"

"No, not him. I just thought you'd miss running the show…Pope and Associates and all."

"I do," Olivia paused thoughtfully, "I do miss it. But I trust Harrison."

Cyrus nodded slowly and the two of them stood there in silence for a moment, before he spoke again, "You did a really great job with him, you know."

"Well if we're giving credit Mr. Beene, you deserve a ton of it."

"You know that's not what I meant," Cyrus said knowingly, "he's happy, _very_. I like it."

Olivia bit back a wide smile, "Me too. I'm happy too."

"I will tell you though, that it definitely makes my job a lot easier."

Olivia raised an eyebrow, "So this is all for personal gain?"

"Absolutely."

Olivia laughed and rested her chin on Cyrus's them, the door to the room opened, and Fitz stepped. He was as impossibly handsome as ever, standing in a dark blue suit and looking – as Cyrus had correctly noted – nervous. And he was just as she had expected – tie-less. Fitz walked over to the two of them.

"Mr. President," Cyrus acknowledged.

"Cyrus," Fitz answered, his eyes locked on Olivia.

"Mr. President," Cyrus began warningly, "you have ten minutes, sir."

But his words fell on deaf ears. He looked back and forth between Olivia and Fitz – who as far as he could tell, had entirely forgotten his existence – and then cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I'm going to uh…I'm going to go wait out by the entrance to the complex."

"Good idea," Fitz mumbled.

Cyrus hurried out and once the door shut behind him,Fitz grabbed Olivia at the waist. The strength of his fingers that gripped at her flesh through her dress filled her with that extrasensory experience she couldn't grasp no matter how hard she tried. It was beyond physical, beyond sensual; beyond anything she pressed his forehead against hers and leaned in for a kiss. Olivia leaned forward, but then stopped.

"Wait," she breathed.

"Mmm…I spent a total of thirty-three hours and…" Fitz leaned over Olivia's shoulder to look at his watch, "approximately forty minutes away from you preparing for this debate. And now we only have ten minutes before Cyrus decides to call in the National Guard to airlift me onto that stage. So no, I'm not waiting," he nuzzled into her neck.

Olivia pressed her pinky finger to Fitz's lips, and then pulled both ties off her arm and held them up his chest right under his neck. She scrutinized them carefully.

"Gray. Definitely the Gray," she said confidently.

Expertly, she tied it underneath his collar and smoothed it out.

"How many times a day do you ask yourself, 'when will he learn how to pick out his own ties?"

Olivia grinned, "Do you really want to know that answer?"

Fitz laughed. He cradled her jaw and kissed her,sending warm shivers over her skin as his fingers ran up her bare arms, slipped under the shoulders of her dress, and skated, almost accidentally, across her bra straps. Olivia cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer, guiding them both through that the heady, ardent feeling thatrendered everything around them forgettable and murky. They stood, wrapped in each other, in the middle of one of the most pivotal moments of his careerand yet, she couldn't feel more comfortable and at home. Even in the frenzy and chaos that was these past months, they were simple – calm and alone; transported elsewhere that was above and , the door opened and Judith, their nanny, entered looking very encumbered by a double stroller and Fitz broke apart just as Judith looked up.

"Oh!" Judith exclaimed, her face reddening, "I'm sorry Mr. Grant, Mrs. Grant."

"No, no, it's fine. Bring them in," Olivia beckoned.

Still clearly embarrassed, Judith shuffled forward. She wheeled the stroller around and there, side by side, sat Isabelle and her twin brother, Nathan. The two were sound asleep and coincidentally slumped over towards each other. They were the picture of innocence and serenity: deep, peaceful breathing with untroubled, sleepy hair was wonderfully soft and tightly curled, and a light brown that would soon darken in the coming months. Nathan twitched adorably in his gray sweater, clearly in the midst of a dream. And Isabelle slept almost entirely still, her mouth slightly parted open in the way that baby's mouths do.

"Oh no…they're sleeping," Olivia said disappointed, "I should have waited to feed them. I wanted them to see you go out for your big debate. Do you think we should wake them?"

"No," Fitz whispered, dropping down to his twins' eye level, "They have two more debates to be awake for."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss against each of their true baby fashion, they stirred slightly but never broke their slumber. Fitz was watching his twins contentedly, and Olivia smiled to herself. She would never tire of the look he got on his face when he saw his children – awe and adoration softened with still tranquility. He had been an unsurprisingly wonderful husband and father. Olivia watched him quietly, listening to the seconds tick could have stood that way with the three of them forever, and she knew that for Fitz too, time had still, she reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You should get going…" she reminded quietly.

Under her hand, she felt Fitz's shoulders rise with a deep breath before he stood up. And right on cue,the moderator's amplified voice rang out,announcing the structure and rules of the debate, _"…__with two-minute answers for the first question, and then there will be an open discussion for the remainder of each segment…."_

"Hey, _are_ you nervous?" she asked.

Fitz sighed and looked down, but Olivia lifted his chin up with the tip of her finger and smiled encouragingly.

"Fitz?"

"Liv?"

"You've _got_ this. _I_ know you do, and you know it too. You are going to go out there and do _amazing_.You are going to go out there and you are going to show everyone what you're about and they will love you – over and is no one else out there who does what you do the way you do it. It works for you _because_ it works; value your process. Don't think about Senator Douglas, don't think about numbers, or ratings…don't think about anyone else but those people out there who want to hear from you,and the three of us back here behind this curtain rooting for you – everyday, all the time, a thousand it?" She asked.

Fitz took a deep breath, "I got it."

"Good. Now show them who you are."

Olivia lightly kissed his cheek. With one hand, she grabbed onto the handle of the double stroller and wheeled Nathan and Isabelle out to the very corner of the stage entrance. Fitz stood by her side, holding on tightly to her free hand. She squeezed it reassuringly and took a deep breath just as the moderator's voice called out:

"…as we welcome President Fitzgerald Grant and Senator Lucas Douglas."

In the stroller, Olivia felt one of the twins stir awake and then slowly and carefully, she felt Fitz's hand slip out of her heart ached with pride as he gave her one last look at her before he walked out onto the stage thundering with applause, ready to claim everything that was his.

**end.**

**Mr. and Mrs. Grant, *swoon* (although I like to think that officially, Olivia would go by 'Pope-Grant'). And fraternal twins – way too adorable! So Fitz is running for President again with the right woman by his side, and the odds are looking good. I am just super happy for them both (even Cyrus seems to have come around with the idea). Writing the last chapter was bittersweet, but ending the story at this point seemed only natural. These two have made a decision to be together, and it is a decision that marks the end of one part of their relationship, and to manipulate it further seems unnecessary. But, I do know that with this two-year time jump, there are a lot of loose ends and TONS of questions. But I have had the idea for a sequel rolling around in my head for a couple of weeks now (I can't make any promises!) and such a sequel would definitely give me the chance to answer those burning questions you probably have (like what's marriage like for Olitz? Where is Mellie and what's she up to? Is Olivia really done with Pope & Associates? How did Olivia and Fitz manage to explain the birth of Nathan and Isabelle, let alone their relationship? How did they manage to explain this to Karen and Jerry? And Olivia's parents?) I feel terrible leaving you guys in the middle of a hiatus, but if I do decide to do a sequel, I will surely time it to last during those sad, long, Scandal-less summer months. It has been SO, SO much fun to write this story for you guys and I am truly appreciative of all your support, reviews, and enthusiasm. Getting the little notification e-mails of a new review has always been an awesome part of writing this and I'm glad you guys enjoyed this story – it means a lot to me! SO THANK YOU. **


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